Chaos Stars: Madness Rising
by Soulweb Knight
Summary: Three years have passed since Harry Potter allied with the TSAB in search of the truth, but the lies are many. In the shadows of legends an old threat arises offering a tempting prize. The storm rises as the young mages take up arms to fight the dark.
1. On Eagle's Wings I

_Chaos Stars: Madness Rising_

_Book 2 of the Warlords Saga_

_Three years have passed since Harrison James Potter joined the TSAB to root out those who dared to mislead him, yet the worms have eluded him. When ordered to deal with another threat he pulls something sinister from the earth that will bring him emotions he thought he had brunt away on the battlefield long ago._

_For three young girls the path to joining the ranks of the TSAB has begun as they seek to balance their new jobs and family life. In darkness new players have stepped forth with those young ones in their site. _

_For one mad scientist with a mind for the ultimate prize the time has come to test his inventions in the field against a perilous foe. The would be Heralds of humanity's true god ride forth to prove the right of ascension has been won, much to the woe of man._

_Torn by her duties as a mother and an officer of the TSAB, Lindy Harlaown chases down an ancient legend reborn. In the far reaches of space she will face the menace haunted an entire sector for thousands of years. _

_Oh the trouble with books! For one librarian these words ring out true more than he would wish. A lost tome and gut instinct of the Blazing General leads two unlikely allies into a dark world were victory is the only option. _

_The winds of war blow as the slow burning might of the wizards is kindled against the Witches Coven. Games are played and the secrecy of magic is threatened, but without a Chosen One to guide them the wizards may yet fall to the enemy they never thought would return._

_Ever lurking in the darkness beyond, eldritch spiders spin their webs as mortals dance for them. With promises of vengeance the Sealed Ones tug at their chains. For night is falling and soon the great hunt will ensure. At the end of this long night the Feast of Flesh begins again, perhaps dawn will come then…_

…

…

…

_It's a miracle; no, it was blood tempered skill that saw me though; I lived through these events when so many others did not or where never given a chance. Poetry is not my strong suit as I have changed the format so that you, the reader, may understand this tale better and avoid the pitfalls I blundered into._

_To my dearest love, if you are reading this (you would have to be in order to see these words. Magic enchantments and all that!), share them with the world and take them to heart. Though we are apart, and you realize it not this is my way of caring. You always said that was where I failed as a person, caring, so I hope you will see these records for what they are, not what they appear to be. _

* * *

><p><em>To say man had fallen to the depths was an understatement. The glory of man, the might of its sciences, the grace of its arts and culture had peaked. All that was left was to complete the spiral of destruction we now walked. Centuries ago it had appeared as if we might never fail, our might passed over by time, and we were wrong. Very, very wrong…<em>

_I slipped amongst the milling throng that always filled the Merchant Quarters on any given day. New Belka had become a melting pot of races and ideas. Agents from a dozen Warlords moved in secret, squat brutish Thidorians muscled their way through the crowds with no regard for who or whom they pushed away, graceful Lanorians stood in the doorways hawking their bodies to passing males, Ravian traders and their massive bug like mounts traipsed overhead, and a dozen other races could be seen. A great many were humans of varying builds and breeds, but at least they were human; a familiar shape. _

_A Lanorian wench called out to me as I avoided a passing Thidorian brute. I resisted the urge to take the dagger I had been clenching and plunge it into her blue skin. Sometimes I wondered what color Lanorians bled, once a drinking buddy of mine had tried to find to find out. We found his body impaled over the bar sign the next day, apparently he couldn't survive the process of having his spine replaced with a wooden spar._

"_Come with me good 'ir. 'how you a good time, I will," she said in what have passed for a surly voice. _

_I noted that this one was still couldn't pronounce the s sounds properly. She must have been a new arrival from their homeworld. Most aliens had trouble with the s sounds in Belkan basics and very few Lanorians ever mastered that most tricky s sound, something I took get pleasure in. They would not ruin our noble tongue of men with their alien voices yet. _

"_Get away from me whore!" I pushed the alien away, the sheer gray robes doing nothing to conceal the fact she wore the form of a human female. "Return to your mud hole filth and leave me be!" _

_She got in my face again. Given me what might have been a Landorian sultry smile, she tried to convince me to join her little act of treason against the human race. "Come, come, 'ee I am not 'o different from you. Give me a try and you will not be di'pleased." _

_She grabbed by arm and started to tug me toward the shadowy door, where exotic spices wafted outwards. I roughly grabbed the whore's arm and twisted, her skin allowed me to twist it as I had expected. In my circles we called Landorians 'Rubber Skins' on account for their malleable skin. The same trait that had made them so famous amongst the military folk was the same reason I hated them. They wore the human form without regard to its scared nature. The xeno-biologists claimed Lanorians were gelatinous masses until the first contact with humans was made and now after all these centuries they were stuck in a human form, their rubber skin the sole reminder of their original form. _

_I would never sleep with one of these pale imitations of humanity! I would never let one of them be treated as a human, to do so would be to admit they were human…ish. Even though the Empress preached tolerance and equal rights for all races under her rule, I would never adhere to the woman's words. She was old and naïve, too willing to cling to the past and unwilling to embrace the future our race deserved amongst the stars. "Die filthy whore," I growled dragging my dagger and plunging the ornamental, yet functional blade into her heart. _

_When the Lanorians had copied the human they came in contact they copied everything, including internal anatomy. I wrenched the dagger as her gray eyes went wide in pain. She let out a low moan and I let her fall after pulling my dagger free of her body. Some blackish substance coated the blade. "Hmm…so you bleed black filthy imposter," I said in contempt. I felt nothing, no pity, no remorse, no regret for this sudden act of violence. It was trash. Why would I care about trash?_

"_What have you done?" _

_I gave the male Lanorian, who emerged from that darken building with all its spices and sensual moans, a sharp glare of utter contempt. He was beneath my notice, trash that lived off humanity. The male rushed to the side of the nearly dead female, Rubber Skins took an unnaturally long time to die a fact I hated. The gathering crowd of curious onlookers would draw the wrong sort of attention to this place. It was past time for me to be gone. _

_I knelt down to the dying female, as the male cuddle her head, whispering to her in their alien tongue, and cleaned my dagger on her clothes. With two swift motions most of the blood was gone from the nanoedged blade. "Keep your own damned blood," I snarled in contempt. _

"_Please! Tell me why? Why did you do this?" the male asked in desperation. "Why did my sister deserve to join the Choir on this day?" He gently placed the alien whores head on the crowd and stood to face me. _

_This male was well dressed. It wore the silk and slipsteel tunic, akin to my own, that was popular in the courts, dyed in expensive red and black dyes. This male was well to do and spoke nearly perfect Belkan basic. I glared at the alien, a parasite who made his fortunes off the backs of honest humans, and turned away. It was past time for me to be gone._

"_Tell me!" it pleaded. _

_I ignored it; the crowd parted before me fear and respect in their eyes. The ornate tunic I wore, a symbol of my status was far grander than anything most of this filth would. The common person within the Belkan Empire could not understand the myriad of complex problems we faced as a nation. As the last free nation in the universes we had the solemn task to preserve, nurture and protect the last true vestiges of humanity; alien scum subverted that most holy of tasks. _

_Out of the corner of my eye I saw the city guards arrive. Their matte black chitin like armor was embellished with the gold and red bands of their office. Behind conical, horned helms they watched over the city, judging and ruling in spite of the law. Out here the laws of Empire held little sway despite being a major trade world. Most of the infrastructure on this planet was dedicated to trade and the flow of trade overseen by my kind, the merchant masters of Sigmond. _

_I stopped for a moment as the captain of this guard squad approached me. He bowed from the waist, acknowledging my station, before he straightened himself to speak. "Master Lam'ro, I would like a word with you."_

"_Ah, yes! About the incident where I was attacked by the Lanorian," I answered his unspoken questions. "I am more than happy to speak about the assault with you. Would you like to take this someplace else?" I asked. It never failed to be somewhat polite to another human. After all, we humans only had each other in the end. _

"_I apologize Master Lam'ro, but I cannot leave this place. Protocol demands that I stay. I merely require a statement from you as to what happened and your part in this affair will be over," he said remorsefully. _

"_The statues of law, I know them well. I had some training in our fine legal system." That was a bold faced lie. Our legal system was some convoluted and corrupted; it took an act of the Empress to get something done. "I was walking by, on a stroll mind you, when that…alien," I wanted to use harsher terms, but the recorder set inside the captain's helm would be capturing all that I said, "attempted to drag me into her…brothel. She grabbed me, after I refused her and I tried to push to her away, but she kept trying. She must have been new or something because she became flustered and tried to force me. She reached for my dagger and nearly got it. I wrenched it away from her and her hands went for my neck so I acted in self-defense. I have trained as a Wolkenritter and have authorization to be armed at all times."_

"_He lies!" the alien screamed, rushing me. "Shaile never attack anyone!"_

_I watched the Rubber Skin fall to the ground as two guards tackled him. One planted his knee into the spine of the alien and the other placed a small disk on the alien's neck. There was a hiss as the adhesive bound itself to the flesh and a spark telling all that the electronic zapped the alien with enough power to render it unconscious. "Clearly the alien is delusions Captain," I concluded, nodded my head sagely for effect. _

"_So it would seem. Very well then Master Lam'ro, your part in this affair is over. Compensation for the attack will come from the still living one in several days. I will deliver it myself," he informed me graciously. _

_I nodded and walked away. He could come to me and expect his money. Ever act like this cost me, but the fortune of my family was limitless. It would never be vast like the High Knights or Seven Lords, but it was steady and in these war times that was something to be said. We might not be amongst the Great Families, but the Lesser Families were fine company to be amongst. _

_Vacating the Merchant Quarters, I crossed one of the many bridges built over the numerous rivers. Sigmond was for the most part a river world. Hundreds of thousands of rivers and streams followed from the World Mountains that nearly stretched the circumference of the entire planet. Within those vast mountains the lakes, fed by fresh snow melt, watered the planet. The entire system was contrived by the might of humanity. This world had been a terraforming project of the highest degree before the Warlords had taken power. Some of those machines still rotated overhead, alongside modern shipyards and ports. "Truly this world was a testament to the might of our species. Even the land bows before our might, as it should," I said thoughtfully as I crossed the bridge. _

"_Nice to see ye haven't changed, ye bastard!" _

_I knew that voice! I turned and smiled. Leaning against the dusty railing with it chipped white paint, I saw a man who I had been like a brother to me. With an easy smile, languid attitude and long jacket made from the skin of a wrym, Kelin Posek was many things; a playboy, outlaw, hunter, ex-soldier and more. Above all he was my friend who faced the worst this planet had to offer by my side. "You should have told be when you returned I would have met you at the port."_

_He pulled me into a one armed hug. "Nice to see you again too. How have ye been doing? I've been gone for over a year and ye never could get much done without me," he said, jovially waving his free arm. _

_I bristled at the sudden close contact. I had never been one for close contact with another person. It was…odd. I knew it was odd, but I had never liked being touched by another human and hated the touch of the alien. "Fine, I have been fine. You?"_

_With an easy smile he seemingly recalled by dislike of being touched and let me go. "Ye wouldn't believe half of what I have seen. Hell's bells, I wouldn't believe 'em if I hadn't seen them myself!" he loudly declared. "I saw what happened in the Merchant Quarters," he said, suddenly serious. "Are ye committed to what ye told me before I left?"_

_I faced him and met his eyes; those brown eyes told me he was all business. Something had changed in him, suddenly I didn't know him. This man wore the same face, acted the same, but thought differently. During his journeys he had changed, but I should have expected that. Nothing stayed the same, no matter how we might resist it. "The day you left?" I asked. He nodded and I took a deep breath. "I meant every word of what I said. Those words are my creed I've built my life around, shaped my family around."_

"_Good," he said with a satisfied nod. "I have a few mates I want ye to meet. They're…similar to ye in thought. They want to change things and so do I."_

_Those words sent my world reeling. In all the years of our friendship he had never acknowledged that my values were his values or gave any hint that he agreed with them. It was either a masterful deception that even my father, a genius in his own right, had missed or the journeys he had taken had forced him to reevaluate what he believed in. "What? Since when?"_

"_Things happen Samuel. Out there," he pointed upwards where heavy dropships ferried goods to the surface and back to the orbital stations, "I found myself. The real me. All those days of harrowing adventures forced me to deal with myself and the unpleasant truths about myself. I had to face 'em. There was no choice. Not for me, never for me," he trailed darkly, staring at the sky. "A new commander is needed for the sake of this Empire, a new directive to maintain everything we hold sacred. In this I agree with ye."_

_I couldn't help, but raise a speculative eyebrow. It was too odd he would suddenly support my radical views. People didn't change so suddenly, it had only been a year since we parted ways. Was he playing another game on me? He had done similar things to me in the past. Then again…he could have changed radically in a year. "I'll meet with your friends. Where?"_

"_Meet me here in when night falls. I'll take you then," he answered evasively. He chewed his lip, a nervous habit he rarely displayed in public, and looked torn. "Things are changing. War is coming. The High Knights and the Seven Lords have called every knight and every battalion to gather on New Belka. The rumors speak of total war against the Warlords, but others say that our Empress has chosen a side in the wider affairs. One thing I do know for sure that chaos is coming to the Empire and the cause lays in the High Courts."_

_I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. It almost seemed as if he thought the Empress herself was involved in this sudden change in policy. Never in the history of our reborn nation had the Empress led us in an offensive war, defensive wars yes, but never as the aggressors. "What are you suggesting?" _

"_Nothing!' he said too quickly, "nothing at all! Anyway meet me here and I'll explain when you meet my friends, not till then," he said forestalling any further questions. _

"_For old times' sake alone then I will obey," I said coldly. I wanted answerers, but Kelin wasn't forthcoming. _

_He gave me an odd look. "You've changed my friend. Your colder, harsher, and more brittle than you think," he said sagely, with a nod of head. "Till this evening." He walked away and quickly vanished into the Merchant Quarter. _

_I rolled his words around for a moment. What did he mean 'more brittle than I thought'? Was that a bad thing? A good thing? Why was he being so ambiguous after all these years? Was it too hard for him to be upfront about his intentions like he had been? Where did the boy who would tell the baker to his face he intended to steal a loaf of bread for the thrill and do so while the baker laughed at his audacity? "Argh!" I shook my head in frustration. More than one passing commoner gave me an odd look, but I didn't care. None of them had power or influence to threaten me. "Forget it, I'll just go home and deal with this later!" _

* * *

><p>"Give me the specs on this trash heap were supposed to go visit Azriel," Harry Potter called out as he slowly rolled out his bunk. Groggily he reached for his uniform, a pair of black pants and matching shirt. Around the collar he had emerald green scroll work, the only identification mark of his personal command. His fingers missed the pants, but hooked the shirt for a moment. It was enough to let the shirt fall into a heap on the floor. Cursing himself he pushed back the sheets and attempted another grab at the pants.<p>

"As you command, Master of Death," the scythe necklace said from the nightstand. "The planet designation is IPU-857; Ios by the natives. There are not records to indicate the inhabitants are Mid-Childan descent though no evidence has been unearthed by the natives as to their origins, but Belkan may be a possible."

"Wait! Do they even look human?" Harry asked hesitantly, pulling the pants on. "I'd rather not have to assume another alien shape, even if it's for a short time. That damned living plastic the TSAB gets hot and sticky inside!" He slipped the shirt over his head, fumbling for a moment with the buttoned up collar. "Have to remember that bloody button," he muttered.

"There is no need for concern. This planet's inhabitants are humanoid in form, composition, and thought. For all intensive purposes they are every bit as human as a non-magical person of Earth or Mid-Childa," she assured him.

"Small blessings." Harry rose and walked to the small sink. "At least those TSAB jerks have the decency to realize crews want to wash their faces with actual water in the morning." The culture shock was not nearly as bad as he expected when he came into the TSAB fold. For the most part their worlds, culture, and peoples had many of the same habits, traditions, and ideas. While he liked some of their technologies others he had more problems with, like refreshers. The refresh was a stroke of genius, a small closet sized unit where one could step into it and enjoy the steam. Through the use of certain types of heated water mixtures the steam was able to clean both skin and cloth, wiping away the days grim without having to undress. Naturally such advances had found their way into the favor of the TSAB Navy.

For him it was too easy. He liked the effort to get clean, the feeling of relaxing over the convenience of minimal work. Refreshers had their uses, but he didn't like them. Traveling for weeks at a time made them useful in his job, which required vast period of time in space, but every time he made planetfall he hunted down a real bath. Sighing at the lack of even a shower, he gave the mirror a forlorn frown, "Well mate we'll get a real bath soon enough," he told his reflection.

He traced the new scar that ran from his jawbone down the left side of neck; the souvenir of an errant Razor Worm tentacle. On one hand it had nearly sliced his neck open, but on the other had the local human females considered it a mark of great prowess of the man in bed. "A strange people, that lot was," he muttered, "Anyway, go on Azriel."

"Very well. Ios is divided into three factions; The Confederation of Allied States, the Ios Imperium, and the League of Arkan. The technology and social level is roughly Industrial age Earth, but is closer to the semi-popular Earth trend called steampunk."

That caught his attention. "Steampunk? Really? Do they even have magic?"

"Several schools of magic have been recorded by the TSAB observers. Most deal with machines or are based around making machines work better, faster, stronger and longer. A fusion of magic and technology akin to the one the TSAB forces upon the Administered worlds, though it is closer to a prototype than the same route of development. This style bears several similarities to some Al-Hazard styles."

Harry waved dismissively before she went on. "Don't care right now, tell me later. Tell me about the mission." He picked up Azriel, unclipped the latch and placed it around his neck. Drawing his finger over the latch, he fed it a spark of raw mana. The latch would be visible to anyone, but would only open for his unique mana signature.

"It was this hybridization of magic and technology that has brought us he. The TSAB observers have learned that the Confederation, after a recent war against the Ios Imperium, has begun research into a forbidden weapon, a type of distortion cannon that bends space around a localized area," Azriel explained as he walked out of his room and into the hallways of the Zepler, a TSAB cruiser that normally ferried personnel from planet to planet.

"So some weapon research has the Director spooked, what of it?" He didn't see the danger; a hundred worlds might be researching dangerous technologies at any point in time. Why was this place any different that they wanted him on the case?

"The Confederation has tested these weapons already. At the time of the first test there was a localized anomaly in the Dimensional Sea surrounding this would. The observers at the time passed it off as nothing. Six months ago there was a series of test in the far northern reaches of the planet. Over the course of the six day test, the observers and reconnaissance beacons in this system picked up hundreds of localized distortions that had a cascading effect. The anomalies grew bigger as the test proceeded and the epicenter was the planet Ios itself."

Harry turned a corner and walked into the mess hall. The handful of TSAB personnel aboard was already eating and the crew was gone, having already been up for hours. Most of the men and women wore the Navy uniform as they ate quietly, studying reports or getting updates from their devices. He grabbed and tray and began to select his dishes. The heat of judgmental glances, hateful glares, and curious innocence impact his back and he ignored it. Three years of the same glances and glares had left him unable to care about them. "Go on Azriel," he said, taking a seat and starting to eat, a few tables away from the nearest personnel.

"As you have already assumed this distortion technology was the cause." He gave her an empathic nod then she went on. "Each tested created an infinitely dense section of space, where matter was crushed from the intense gravity. These devices, if one of suitable size or numerous enough were detonated, could create a sector wide dimensional distortion that would tear this area of the space-time frame and into the Void. Of course this would only be for a moment. After such an event, moments afterwards, the fundamental forces holding matter together would change and matter would literally fly apart without dying. Within a minute all matter would be blown apart and then converge into a single point due to the artificial gravity; do keep in mind that the people would be still be 'aware' for all intensive purposes. That artificial gravity would collapse into itself, dragging all matter and energy within this sector into a singularity where the thinking beings, humans, would suffer the immense pressure and heat of all of their creation for all eternity," she paused for a moment, "or at least until their souls brunt up in the infinite heat of creation. This would create a sphere within the Dimensional Sea that would expand making travel through it impossible. In time it would break through the space-time barriers and many universe would be consumed before they knew what was happening. In theory the sphere would expand indifferently until it retracted back into itself and then expanded again into infinity. That is what the projects used by the TSAB suggests."

Harry had dropped his fork as she deliver the endgame in the familiar monotone and couldn't help, but wonder what mad man had created her to deliver such words as if they were words of prophesy and foregone conclusion. The fate she spoke of was among the worst he had ever heard and during the war he had heard ever kind of grim fate mentioned on both sides, yet this was new. This distortion cannon fate ranked up there with the goat one, but he would never speak of the goat again, for his personal sake and desire to sleep at night of course. "Whoa!" He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, "That's…something new."

"A terribly hot fate Master of Death as the human body starts to come apart at hundred and five degrees; cooking is a better term. I can only theorize that at the heats in this scenario will be much higher. The cold touch of death is much preferred as it allows for a chance of revival, however slight," she said, surprisingly droll for a machine born out of magic and science.

"Not funny, not funny at all," Harry chided her pointlessly. In death and ways to make things die Azriel found pleasure and joy. She was a murderous and wished for nothing more than utter silence as all things died around her. He quickly amended that thought; she wanted him with her always even when the universe was grey and cold as the stars died. "Let me guess a smash and grab mission?" he said, changing the subject. The danger of these cannons was apparent even to him.

"No, an annihilation mission. Nothing is to be left of this technology. We are to destroy all traces of it, anyone with the knowledge behind the creation or operation of technology, everyone who has come in contact with and might be able to recreate it must die. Those are the orders we have been given," she said soundly faintly pleased by the projection of bloodshed in the near future.

"Ugh! This is why I hate being special ops," Harry moaned quietly, putting his head in his hands. "It's easy enough to say, but then doing it? Getting everyone who knows anything? Hah! If I had a lifetime I might be able to do it, but I don't. Though…" he trailed off, "I suppose…"

"What are you thinking my Master of Death?"

"If most of the data went bye-bye then maybe…and the creator kicked the bucket…the Director might be satiated with that, no she'll have to be. There's no way in hell I'm staying to clean up every bloody bit of knowledge. At least," he smiled a bit at the only positive side of this mission, "I'll have to give the old lady a nice fat commission bill for this job above and beyond my normal duties." He loved this freelance work while being an official member. The best part was when he got to write that number down and hand to Crowbel who would raise her eyebrows, frown in distaste then slid the appropriate check to him.

"We are being watched Master of Death," Azriel stated suddenly. "We were not quite."

"What?" He looked up and saw that for the most part the other officers were looking at him, most no longer holding back their loathing. They hated him because unlike them he would change the amount of pay he could get at the cost of job security, or so he liked to tell himself. The day Crowbel no longer needed him there would be a security team waiting to arrest him and he would fight. Allies would become enemies and he would kill them. At least the regular officers had a steady pay and job security; it would take a lot of wrong doing for the TSAB to arrest one of their own officers. Others in this room would hate for the fact he would kill without remorse and perform actions many of the high and mighty Bureau would call shameful and cowardly acts. He shook his head and gave them a slow disappointed nod, not everyone could serve in the light and the battle must be waged from the darkness by the darkness. "Darkness though light…" he cast a longing look upwards, "Damn, when did my life become so complicated. I'm sick of this light and dark crap. I just want to live my life yet here I am working for the light against what?"

"Neither. The TSAB is neither dark nor light. You are allowing you r perception to be colored by the war-"

"Battle," Harry quickly corrected Azriel.

"The battles you have experienced. In this case the heroes of these mages are the villains of the native peoples when they must perform certain actions the natives might find distasteful or offensive in the name of the greater safety. Ergo, we can conclude that the Time Space Administration Bureau is a morally gray organization, though it should be known that I hold a far different view of morality given what I am. My reason cannot be trusted any more than yours, Master of Death, as neither of us stand as they do. Judgments from us is as an outsider, hence we cannot fully comprehend."

"Chatty, aren't you?" Harry snapped. To a certain extent her words made sense. He had found it harder and harder to understand some of the actions he had seen mages and wizards do in the name of good and evil. Fanatics stood on both sides ready call each other evil as they committed evil. Good men performed evil actions for the sake of good. Evil men performed acts of good for evil. It was pointlessly stupid. Every man or woman was a king or queen unto themselves and each had a different view of right and wrong, yet was more than willing to walk over the line then cross back over. "I suppose your right. I find myself not caring anymore. Right, wrong, black, white, blue, green, indigo…what's the difference?"

"Plenty and nothing," a new voice broke in.

Harry's head shot down to look at the interloper. The interloper was a woman, maybe a year or two older than him, in the black uniform of the Enforcers. Her hair was a pale blonde, nearly silver in the light that oddly fitted with her extremely pale skin, a common symptom of those who spent much of their time inside starships. "And you are?"

"Not musing out loud," she said with a smirk. She took the seat across from him, dropping a heavy tome on the table. 'My Device," she told him, placing a hand on the tome.

"Names might help here," he suggested, but made no move to offer his own. She met his gaze head on. Her eyes were the odd, milky white yet with splotches of blue around her pupil. Those eyes through him for a loop; they were strange eyes the likes of which he hadn't seen before.

"The eyes," she stated as if she had expected his thoughts. She let out an exasperated sigh. "Once more I get to explain. I suffered an accident during an investigation. A Lost Logia activated and I happened to be looking at the epicenter of the bright flash that followed. Several minutes passed where I couldn't look away and my iris's was brunt away. Happy? Now you know the story of the freaky eyes," she finished bitterly.

Harry shrugged and picked at the last of his breakfast. "Doesn't matter to me. Though I didn't say I was curious to begin with," he pointed out. "You assumed and made an ass out of yourself." He let out a small chuckled, but the woman across the table didn't get it. The only look she wore was on of confusion. Quickly he moved to explain, "It's a saying from back home, a joke on a certain beast we have."

"I…see…" she said slowly. "I'll keep that in mind. I wouldn't want to be…what did you call it? An ass? Though we should return to subject at hand; morality."

"Why would you care?" He was honestly curious why she had taken a sudden interest in him and she had yet to introduce herself.

"You find the traditional ideas of black and white binding, no? Limited in perspective given the nature of humans to cross that line at will and still call black white and white black." She didn't wait for an answer from him and plunged ahead. "In that manner we are alike. The conventional standards make little sense to us, but we play along because of the chains. Every man, woman and child sees a different world, yet it is the same world. A robber who steals from the toy store and gives to the children at the park is a hero to the children, a dangerous criminal to the father, and a threat to a mother's child. Yet to another man the robber is a hero for the owner of the store was a crook, to the woman who was scammed by the store it is righteous vengeance for the transgressions she suffered, and the child envies those who got the toys because they were not among them, thus the robber is a villain. Which is true?"

He honestly didn't want to have a deep discussion over the nature of morality. All he had been doing was musing out loud…in the wrong place, he reminded himself. Next time he would save the musing and talking out loud for the times when he was alone. The woman went on, talking as she took quick bites of something he thought looked like a salad. It was hard to tell with shipboard rations what exactly one was eating.

"Every man, woman and child will see the robber differently, yet when the time comes for society to judge the robber they follow the mass. Chains," she repeated the word over and over as if it were the key to all knowledge, "chains bind us. Chains compel us to act in unison. Metal links chain the black ring, red rings, white ring, blue ring, green ring and all the other rings, views rather, into one thing we called normal social codes and values. From these arise societies and nations, born by chains binding and forcing adherence through one means or another. Yet sometimes the chains cannot bind one and the ring breaks away. Outsiders call us freaks, and thousand other names by the chained who do not realize they are chained."

Harry finally spoke up. "And the outcasts gather and link with each other. One by one they find each other and chain themselves together. The sum of the differences between the outcasts is less than the sum of the similarities between the outcasts. Then a new chain is created. As you said from there you create a new society, bound by chains of a different kind, but chains none the less. So you're back to where you started."

She gave him a pleased look, it seemed she was happy someone was willing to endure her speeches and debated back, to some extent. "Correct, the endless cycle of chains. Each cycle thinks itself unique, special, out of the ordinary, rebels and the like, but it's just a new incarnation of an old chain reborn. Where does it end? Where does the cycle break? When black rings become white? When green becomes red? Perhaps when all the rings are yellow? No, none of these. It will never end. It will frustrate the outcast until more come to unwittingly build the chain of a new cycle with the outcast. There is no escape for us, we have already lost, yet," she paused and looked over his shoulder at the far wall. "Yet…yet we want the chain. A part of being human one could say. To be above such petty matters, yet all we want is to be amongst those who think the same. Odd, don't you think?"

He nodded slowly. A lot of what she said made a certain amount of sense, but he thought for a moment she had failed to address the morality issues. Then he realized she had. She had hit on the issue the whole time, the colors, the chains, the whole time she had been focused on the topic at hand. "Think about it as color. White rings and chains can be dyed red, yellow and blue. From there you can reach any color. Combine them all and you have a black ring. Over time you blend the entire chain, slowly though over the course of many lifetimes," he suggested.

"A base is needed though, to change the color that is. Without a base nothing can stand. A house needs a foundation, a starship needs a hull and a planet needs a core. We who dislike the white chain that binds offer a different chain, yet the base is always there. For some it is reason, science, religion, social values and the like, yet what is it for the outcasts. There is no common color of the outcast, you are red and I am blue, another is green and another is orange. Where does it end? Where does it start, the change? Is it worth it? Can humanity survive the change? Do they want to change?" she questioned, almost as if were talking to herself.

"Does it matter what they want? Do they care about the larger picture? No!" He smacked his fist on the table, drawing the eye of the few remaining officers still eating. "No, they don't care. They never did." The faces of wizards he had fought with, saved and killed flashed through his mind. "They don't care; all that matters is the immediate tomorrow they can't see beyond their noses. A week out, a year out, it doesn't matter they'll use the same judgment over and over and over." Wizards were stagnant. That he had known from the moment Voldemort had returned to his full power and the real fighting started. A wizard would fight for the status quo, where black magic was black magic, good magic was good magic and gray was close to black, but not too much so good could make limited use of it. After the fighting was done he had tried his hardest to get their society moving again. He pushed and pulled, prodded and tempted the stubborn fools to take action to save their race, to change their color so they might have a chance to survive, yet he had failed at every turn and they turned on him for it. "New things are frowned at until their worth is proven. If by force then they are slowly changed over many lifetimes. Though peace it might take a shorter time, but still lifetimes have to pass before peaceful ideas take charge."

Her pale lips almost quirked upwards into a smile. "Now you understand the questions I have wrestled with for the past four years. This outcast has found another outcast. A chain if formed. A common bond I have not felt in a long time." She bent her head over her plate and started to eat rapidly.

"You know," Harry drawled, playing with his fork as he placed an elbow on the table, "you left me with more questions than answers. What is the difference?"

She gave him a half glance, through the hair that had fallen over her eyes. Looking him square in the face, she brushed her hair back and smirked. "Questions are endless and answers only breed more questions. You answered the question yourself, though what questions the answer and the question will open up I find myself wondering." She placed her small hands before her mouth, fingers interlocked. "Where will it lead I wonder? What new questions will be opened by the answer? Is the answer even the answer to this question or another? So many different questions and never enough answers, that's what I've learned. Endless questions and never enough time to answer them all."

He didn't know what to make of this strange woman. She thought deeply, plumbing the depths of reason for answers. She was smart, that much was certain by her speeches, but she just seemed off. Her eyes made an odd contrast to her plain body and normal face. This woman was no supermodel or playwitch, yet she had a beauty of her own.

"My name is Cerisi," she said, suddenly standing. She took her plate in one hand and lifted the tome by the cover. The tome stayed shut as she lifted it as if it were nothing. "My Device is named Stark. I seek to be out to be in, in yet out by being in. In this task you will assist me greatly."

"What are you talking about?" he asked in confusion. She was an odd woman to be certain and her mind worked in odd ways apparently. What was she talking about, out to be in to, in yet out? What kind of games was she playing with him?

"Farewell my warlock," she said before gliding away. She flipped her hair over her shoulder as she departed, having dropped her tray with the other dirty trays, moving swifter than he thought possible for a human without magic supporting them or maybe she was using magic.

"What the hell just happened?" he demanded, looking to Azriel for any sort of explanation. She was his partner, constant friends and ally and now he turned had to turn to her for an explanation s to what had just happen to him. "Cerisi…"The name was strange to his tongue, yet it had a certain ring to it.

Azriel did not speak for a minute as he played with the name, the strangeness fascinating him. "I do not know Master. That woman is…odd."

He rolled his eyes in exasperation. "How astute my dear Watson! Absolute bloody brilliant deduction that I could have never have come up on my own," he said dryly.

"British humor. How very droll," the Device shot back.

* * *

><p>The last light winked out and the night commanded the house. In the darkness the terrors of the night haunted the dreams and vision of a thousand children. For each child the terrors were real, shadows given form and filled with malevolent intent conjured from the depths of minds that did not understand. Yet for those that knew the darkness there was no fear. For those who faced the true darkness of despair and destruction the night terrors held no power. For those who were exhausted the greatest of nightly horrors could not even touch, such was the case of one Nanoha Takamachi.<p>

The lights went out and she went with them. The long week of endless test was over and she let exhaustion take her. Endless hours of studying half-forgotten information had been regurgitated for the hellish week, but it was finally over. She let out a content sigh. Her bed was soft and familiar. The pillows seemed extra comfortable and plush on this night. The yellow pajamas were cool against her skin as the first breaths of hot summer wind wafted into the room.

"It's finally over," she said into a pillow. She didn't want to even identify which pillow it was. The brainpower needed for such as task was gone. A pillow was a pillow. She let her body shut down and slowly she felt the bliss of sleep take her…

…

…

…

She dreamed. She dreamed a dream that she had never dreamt before. This was no dream of hanging around with Fate and Hayate, or of flying through the skies free as a bird. She stood in an open glade. All around her white birch trees grew; their leaves greener than any leaf she had ever seen. Though the openings between branches she could see other open glades. In the center of the glade she stood in there was pool surrounded by a narrow strip of sand that meet the thick, lush grass.

She was barefoot, but felt nothing on her feet as she walked towards the pool. Here and there she spied flowers, bright pretty things that seemingly turned to look at her, in the grass and shadows of the trees "A dream," she reminded herself. "Nothing, but a dream. I should enjoy it while it lasts." If she thought she flowers turned to look at her then they did. It was her dream.

Kneeling at the edge of the water she looked into pool. Her reflection gazed back at her. Her hair was unbound, but she felt no desire to put it up. She smiled, the reflection smiled, she waved, the reflection waved back, she giggle, the reflection giggled, she pointed a finger at the reflection, the reflection pointed a finger back at her…she froze.

Slowly she giggled once. The reflection giggled.

She giggled again. "A dream, this is a dream," she forced herself to repeat.

The reflection giggled. "A dream, this is a dream," it said back to her.

Wide eyed she backpedaled away from the pool, falling to her butt then crawling away from the pool. The reflection had talked! "It…it…it talked!" She looked at the pool, mistrust in her eyes as she glanced around, but always keeping the pool in her sight.

"Hehehehehehehe,"a light musical voice giggled.

She whirled around to find the source of the voice, but found nothing. Nothing moved in the trees or the glade, the pool was smooth and silent. Once more she found herself looking to the pool.

"Hehehehehehehe!"

She thought she saw movement in the trees. Whirling about she tried to form a weapon, a staff, her staff, Raging Heart, but nothing came. "A dream, this is my dream. I'm the master here."

"Hehehehehehehe!" The voice rang out again as if it found her declaration humorous.

"Who are you?" she demanded. She had faced worse things in life. The rouge defense program had more scary a dream she told herself. A dream could not hurt her. Her dream was hers to dream and dreams didn't hurt their dreamers.

"Such confidence for such a young girl," a sultry female voice cooed from everywhere and nowhere.

Nanoha saw the pool ripple. Waves spread from the center and grew as a light appeared beneath the water. She stood her ground, in part because she refused to run from danger, but the also the trees had grown thicker in mere moments, locking her in the glade. Overhead the sky was clear, but vines were slowly crafting a dome over her head.

"You and I will have such fun! It'd been a long time since someone visited this palace of mine. I was getting lonely. For a moment I had thought man had forgotten about me, yet here you stand, sweet thing. So pure and innocence," the voice trailed off wistfully.

The light was growing in intensity. She covered her eyes and looked away though through closed fingers she could see bits of the lights coming through her skin, blood and flesh. This was wrong. This was a dream, her dream. This was not what she dreamed. She couldn't be dreaming this. She didn't dream like this.

The light stopped and began to fade.

She didn't lower her hand. A childish gesture of hoping the problem would go away if one could not see it, but it gave her some measure of comfort. She heard soft falls and the tinkling of bells. The vines overhead began to retreat as time reversed itself before her eyes. Fully grown trees became sprouts and then seeds buried in the ground.

"You need not fear me, my sweet thing. Here I am your friend. Open your eyes and see," the voice encouraged her.

Slowly she began to unclench her fingers as the voice, the light as she guessed they were the same, encouraged her with sweet words. Every word from that voice was light and airy, sweet as honey and a joy to listen to. With her hand gone she dared to look upon the light, the source of the voice. Standing before her, in the grass was a being that radiated light. The being was female in form, nude and stood in the fresh grass toes wriggling as she did so. Black hair with a single, stark white streak, hung down to the being's ankles. Crystal eyes that shone with every hue of every color watched her. Its face was too perfect, unblemished and pale as the alabaster jars she had seen once in a museum. Everything about the being was perfect; everything was perfectly portioned from the size of its breasts, jiggling ever so slightly as it moved, to the delicate ankles on toned legs.

"Wha-wha-what are you?"

Rosy lips, brighter than a rose, opened to answer. "I am many things, sweet thing. Long did I sleep in this pool, watching the world of men from their dreams, seeking one worthy and you are she, sweet thing. You are the one out of the countless sea of your kind I have chosen. In your ancient past your people knew us well. You walked amongst us when you needed console, you begged boons of us and we both benefited. I am a fey," it declared taking a few graceful steps towards her.

"A what?" Nanoha asked, tilting her head in confusion. She had never heard of these fey. The term was utterly alien to her. "Is it an English word?"

A cease formed where the too perfect eyebrows came together on the being's forehead. "Oh my! It seems too much time has passed or perhaps not enough. Maybe I missed the frame, but anyway we must rectify your lack of knowledge, sweet thing." The crease vanished and the being smiled at her, extending a hand towards her. "Come, let me show you dreamland."

Slowly Nanoha reached out and placed her smaller hand into the being's hand. It smiled, seemingly brighter and pulled her closer. It suddenly pulled her against its breasts and let out a content sigh, "It had been too since I held a sweet thing to my breast, sweet thing. Too long, too long, but we should go. The wonders of the dreamland await us."

She reminded herself it was a dream over and over. She was in control she could escape at any time ort change the dream. This woman was a creation of her mind and nothing more. Dreams couldn't harm a person and this woman couldn't touch her. Going with her would not endanger her, but this was quickly turning into the strangest dream she had ever dreamt. "Show me," Nanoha told the woman confidently, assured in her own power over the dream.

"Oh my sweet thing I will show you many things you will delight in. You will not be disappointed," the woman assured her. "Close your eyes and let us go."

Slowly the girl shut her eyes. There was rushing sound and brief feeling of weightlessness. She could feel grass beneath her toes and opened her eyes. She could feel! The dream had changed again. In glade she had felt nothing from the grass, yet here she could feel the cool grass and the rush of wind on her face. The woman let her go and she stepped back, gazing around. They stood on a mountain meadow that gently rolled down the mountainside. She saw a open valley with a river running through it far below. Large moss covered boulders lay strew across the meadow and mountainside, the result of ancient landslides, but they had become a part of the landscape. "They would make good places to have a picnic," she told herself. Some of the boulders were massive and flat, providing a good view of the valley below.

"A lovely place for a lovely sweet thing, no?" the woman asked behind her.

It was a beautiful place to be that she wouldn't mind staying around for a while. The air was clean and clear, the grass fresh and cool, and she felt alive here. Overhead the sun shone with a gentle light, warming her skin, but not scorching it. Clouds danced in the blue sky. "What is this place?" Nanoha asked, turning to the woman.

"A dream, sweet thing, a dream of a dream. A place born by the dreams of many to craft this place of idyllic beauty. You might call it the dream a dream dreams. Perfection made into a dream, a heaven for some and a hell for others." The woman took Nanoha's hand and led her to a larger boulder. She guided her to edge and they sat, legs hanging off the edge.

"What are you really? And why are you nude?" Nanoha asked again, hoping her dream would answer her instead of using riddles.

The woman laughed, a light and musical laugh, and placed a delicate hand over Nanoha's hand. "I already told my sweet thing, I am a fay. A sprite, a spirit of the woods, dweller of dreams, netherworlder, consular and advisor to kings and peasants alike, smith and magician who has gifted men with weapons they never understood, yet they love us all the more for them. Does my nudity offend you?"

"N-no! Of course not, but if this is a dream and you're female…what does that say about me?" Nanoha's eyes went wide. "Hayate can never find out! I'll never here the end of it!" She could already envision the endless teasing that would follow.

"Do not fret, my sweet thing," the woman assured her, leaning over to whisper in her ear. "This can be our secret, okay? You can dream of all the budding sexuality you want and I won't tell." That voice sent shivers down Nanoha's spine and woman pulled away. "This is a dream, but not a dream. I chose not to adhere to the social norms of your people, clothing rituals and all that, because I am not one of you, sweet thing."

"That makes sense," Nanoha reasoned. The suddenly realization of the silliness of worrying about Hayate finding out about her dream was too funny. Her friend couldn't enter dreams and she didn't have to talk about it. To think she had asked a dream woman to keep it a secret…she was being ridiculous, but couldn't help but laugh at herself. It was such a silly thing to worry about, in a dream no less!

"And now you laugh," the woman said, apparently pleased. "That is good my sweet thing. Laughter keeps you young at heart." She suddenly stopped and fixed the girl with a serious look. Slowly the laughter faded from Nanoha as she realized the face the woman was making. "We must talk seriously know. Time is short, the dream will end soon."

"Okay, what do you want to talk about?" Nanoha felt oddly at ease with the strange woman even if she was inhumanly beautiful

"Few can call me into their dreams and even fewer can enter my glade, yet you did because I chose you. While this is true there are other factors that must be met. You have come into contact with someone else who has spoken with a fay and contracted with that fay haven't you sweet thing?"

She tried to recall anyone else who might have dreamt this dream before, but she couldn't think of one. Then again it was a dream and most dreams were forgotten so one her friends might have dreamt the dream only to forget about it. "I don't anyone like that," she said with a frown. Try as she might she couldn't recall any conversations about anything involving these fay beings.

"That's okay sweet thing." The woman placed a hand on her shoulder. "Few can realize that have been touched by us and fewer would speak openly about it. Fay dislike sharing their contractors and will go to great lengths to concern them from the sight of others."

"Is that what you want? To contract with me?" Nanoha swiftly inferred.

She smiled and nodded. "Yes, I want you to contract we me, sweet thing. I want your sweetness and my own to become one like some many others in the past had. Of course you will only benefit from it."

"How? I already have my magic and the TSAB says I'm extremely powerful." She gently kicked her legs, feeling the rough stone hit her skin.

"True, but what I offer you is nothing you can ever possess through magic. I am older than old, pure and primal power that had been lost to your kind since the end of the Great Revolt. I have seen things no mortal memory can recall and fought with beings backed by all the power of the heavens and hells. What I offer you is that power, my power, to fight and protect." The woman paused and raised a finger. "The Book of Darkness, it was overwhelmingly powerful wasn't it? You didn't see a path to victory then and I offer you one now."

"We beat it though! Hayate, Signum and the rest destroyed it from the inside," Nanoha protested.

The woman gave a mocking bark of laughter. "Oh how wrong you are sweet thing. You thought you beat the darkness of the program, yet you are deluded by the physical and do not see beyond. Always it is the unseen that kills, even if it acts through the seen. Power exists on many levels, your physical power and your magic cannot harm the unseen threats that lurk around you. Every step you take in the waking world is filled with shadows that lurk ready to destroy. The shadows will tear and claw away at your friends until they bleed to death. Even though the physical damage may fade, the physical form die, the rest of the darkness is still there. Against this power I offer you my contract sweet thing, attack the heart and save your friends from the unseen threats or reject it and they will fall into eternal death when the shadows come. Beyond life they will find no hope if you reject the contract."

"How can I trust you?" Nanoha told the woman in a quiet voice. "I can't trust you."

The woman gave her a devilish smirk and stood. "Good, you've taken the first step. Nothing is ever as it seems. I will give you time to consider my offer, though I withdraw my offer to guide you around dreamland. Only my contractor may use me in such a way." She turned and started to walk away.

"Wait!" Nanoha cried, stumbling to her feet. "How do I get back home?"

The woman chuckled darkly. "Isn't that always the question? This is a dream, you said it yourself my sweet thing. Take care until we meet again my sweet thing."

There was a flash of light that blinded Nanoha and the woman vanished. When she looked again she was alone in the meadow. The winds grew cold suddenly, sending chills down her spine. She almost took a step the boulder they had sat on when she looked down. Out of the earth came a red liquid, oozing up and spreading. Looking closer at the green grass she saw the red replacing the green. The boulder beneath her feet moved and she fell. With a splash she fell into ooze, coating her face and front of her body.

The rumbling of stone caused her to look back to the boulder in fear of the unknown, coating her lower back in the ooze while doing so. The boulder had risen from the ground on spindly legs and slowly turned. The sound of creaking caused her to look to the forest that had been near the far edge of the meadow, but now was very, very close. Trees moved as withering vines and roots lashing out as they crawled towards her, send chunks of earth and stone into the air as they crawled. Something slimy touched her leg.

She looked down and screamed. The ooze had taken the form of bugs. More of the ooze on her face turned to bugs that each plunged their hairy needle like legs into her flesh. She tried to wipe the ooze from her face and eyes, but her hands were covered. More of the bugs formed on her hands and face. They began to latch on to her face as she rubbed in vain.

The trees reached for her. Vines circled her wrist and pulled tight, freeing her form the ooze on the ground, but the bugs on her still dug deeper into her skin. Fire coursed her veins as the ooze entered her body. Human blood became ooze, ooze became bugs and the bugs stung from the inside. She withered in agony, but her feet were snared by tree roots, screaming in pain and horror.

The boulder had turned on it spindly legs and stared at her. Thousands of eyes with slit pupils gazed at her helpless form. She couldn't move, her body suffered like she had never suffered, and the eyes reveled in the sight of her torture. Vines pulled at her, threatening to pop arm and legs as they pulled. She could see the boulder move, the bugs avoided her eyes. She felt more vines locker her body in place, touching everything, but her eyes.

Slit pupils grew large as the boulder lunged at her. She panicked and scream, but the vines were quicker to fill her mouth to silence her. The boulder fell towards as she tried to wish them away, wish away the pain with tears in her eyes… It hurt! Each eye suddenly became a mouth. The silted eye parted and countless cruelly shaped teeth fell on her. She knew her fate in that moment, food for this thing. Vines gave way as the mouths fell; she felt vine and tender flesh be pierced. She tried to scream and felt blood in her mouth as savage teeth did their cutting work. Teeth moves and felt the flesh begin to tear. It was going to take a hunk her chest as food and then the rest of her! She her bone snap and-

…

…

…

She opened her eyes to darkness. Cold sweat dripped down her face. Her body ached in pain. The nightmare was fresh in her mind. The treating and pulling, agony and fire, emotions flooded her all at once. She cried, she wailed in pain and fear. Lights came one and she saw shapes she knew to be her parents and older siblings in the open door, but they were not. Each face was the horrible silted eye, opening and closing that mouth that had eaten her.

They called out and all she heard was cracks of bones, the clicks of bugs, and whacking vines. She tried to bury herself into the corner of her bed to escape the horror. They came towards her. "Get away!" she screamed over and over, but they came anyway. Hands were vines seeking to pull her apart. She tried to swat them away, but four pairs came for her. One of the eyes grew closer and she screamed. "Leave me alone! GET AWAY!"

"Nanoha!"

The world shattered. Vines and silted eyes shattered as the light came on. Her breath came in short gasps and bursts. She hugged her knees for comfort as her mother placed an arm around her shaking form. She quivered like a leaf and sagged against her mother's warmth. Her mother didn't have silted eyes or vines for hands, she was perfectly normal. The nightmare was over she told herself over and over under her breath. "…over. It's over. It's over," she chanted to herself as her mother made gentle cooing noises, stroking her hair.

The night was hardly over. There would be no sleep for her. The eyes were there. She wouldn't sleep; she wouldn't give the boulder what it wanted. Her mother never left her side, even as her father waved her older siblings back to bed. She vaguely recalled her mother helping her downstairs and sitting on the couch as her father prepared some tea. "…over. It's over. It's over," she continued to chant to herself even as he father sat a cup of hot tea before her and took her free side.

She continued her mantra regardless, quivering and curled up. "…over. It's over. It's over."

* * *

><p><em>The clash of metal rang out as I entered the gateway. The men posted there, Simon and Kei, gave me a swift salute (clenched fist over the breastbone, just below the throat). They were loyal men form my father's years adventuring and pirating. They years were catching up with them, but retirement was far from their wishes. They had trained me and the other servants to fight and to kill. "Gate duty?" I jabbed as I passed. <em>

"_Someone has ta do it," Kei told me gruffly. "Your brother is back."_

_I froze. My older brother was back…why? "Why?" I asked even though I doubted they knew themselves. Simon gave a shrug and returned his gaze to the street, regarding each passing stranger with equal suspicion. Simon One-eyed, or so he had been called in his younger days, was the silent type. He only spoke with the greatest of reservation and only when the greatest need arose. _

"_Can't say for sure, your brother took the Black. I can't recall a Black walking away in one piece, dozens usally," Kei said with a snort of laughter. _

_His black humor was hardly funny at the moment. The last time my brother and I had spoken it had been harsh words on both sides. He had announced his intention to take the Black at dinner and I demanded a reason when why he felt shamed enough to take the Black. He answered and had refused to accept his self-centered answers. Over and over he told me why and I didn't listen. Then I had attacked him, hoping to beat sense into him. The fight that had ensured was one-sided; he had destroyed me in words and power. He was older and stronger. With a simple fork he had me at his mercy and those cold eyes had frozen me in place. The next day he left and for the last five years I had heard nothing from him. My father was an associate of the Black, but any word my father sent to my father never passed my sight. Even me father's office was clean of any documents relating to my brother or the Black. _

"_Your sisters wanted ta duel him. They're in the training yard," Kei informed me as the clash of metal rang out louder, this time followed by a loud curse made in pain. "It's seems the Black has only honed his skills," Kei said with a knowing smile. _

"_Indeed." I walked away and into the main courtyard. Through the ornate bloodclay entrance leading to the training yard I could see a crowd of servants and others, guests and family, standing around. Wrought metal work, shaped into a thousand different flowers and beasts from across the universe, was attached to the wall and provided just enough foot and hand room for me to climb up to onto the bloodclay tiles that decorated the top of the wall. My mother had often yelled at me to stay off the walls, but I never listened. It was a simple matter, even now, for me to reach the top of the wall. I found my balance as I stood in the shadow of the multi-level dining hall. _

_In the training yard I saw my brother and younger sister clash. Blood poured form my sister's left shoulder, where her shirt had been cut away. My sister rushed, her curved sword whistling as she brought a savage blow towards my black clad brother's head. He caught the blow and shoved her away with a twist of the long blade the Black favored. He didn't attack even as my sister fell to the ground, sending a dust cloud up as she coughed and tried to regain her breath. She let out a battle cry, seized her sword and rushed him. She lunged at the last moment, aiming for the legs; a move of desperation on her part. _

_I heard the clash of slipsteel and the cry of pain. My brother stood over my sister, his blade at her throat. My sister's sword fell a good distance away, quivering from the impact. I couldn't make out my brother's face from the distance, but I imagined it was the cold dead stare he had given me that night in the dining hall. _

_My sister cracked a smile and yielded as her hand bled. The blade at her throat vanished, quicker than a blink. It seemed my brother had picked up more than one trick in the Black. Their techniques were famed through the Empire and beyond, but feared at the same time. The Empress's Sheath style had taken more lives than any man cared to count in the name of the Empress. The trail of fools trying to master the style grew by the day as untrained boys took their arms, legs and heads off in their vain efforts to imitate the Black. _

_The crowd began to disperse, their entertainment over for the moment. My sister huffed in good nature as Doctor Ashera pulled her towards the small hospital she ran out of the compound for the sake of the staff and my family. I watched my brother pull the curved blade free from the earth as the last of the onlookers dispersed. _

_As the last servant vanished back into the dining hall he looked at me. I suppressed a snarl and dropped to the ground, an easy jump for me. "You're back," I said coldly. _

_He nodded and tossed my sister's blade towards me. Whistler she had named it and it still whistled as I caught it in my right hand. I took a moment to get a better look at his face. He seemed gaunter than I remember, but those eyes were still cold. Small scars ran over his nose that looked like some sort of claw mark. A thick stumble coated his face, making it seemed as if he had been living rough for the last few days. "Fight," he ordered. His voice was gruffer than I remembered. _

_I weighed Whistler for a moment and dropped the blade to my side, keeping it in a loose grip. "No, I will lose."_

"_Then fight."_

"_You are one of the Black Apostles. I am the heir of a wealthy merchant family. We don't need to fight." I almost wanted to drop the blade and walk away. A cool bath awaited me and the maids would be willing and wanting to pleasure me as was their duty. _

"_So?"_

_His statement told me he saw no difference in men now. All men were men before his eyes and would fight. I could have fought him and I make had stood a chance. He had trained me before he left, but after his departure I had all but abandoned the sword in favor of the pen and politics. I might have been able to get a few good strikes in before he disarmed me, but I wasn't willing to push my luck any more toward. "I have things to do and they start with a bath." I turned away, heading for the main courtyard and the apartments on the other side._

"_A fat merchant, is that it? Become like the others, overweight with a different set of maids to warm his bed every night even though mother is still willing to pleasure him. You want to be a pig like him with flowered scents disguising your pig sweat, rutting humans with your pig dick, and dying like a pig in a pile of your own filth. Trash," he barked. _

"_Shut up traitor!" I roared, whipping Whistler towards him. I saw red even as the clang of slipsteel rang out. Whistler lived up to its name as I attacked over and over. Each blow was blocked or dodged and I snarled at him, growled at him. I knew I had a dozen openings where he could have ended the fight in a moment, yet he took none of them. My foot lashed out and was batted away by the flat of his blade. I fell to the ground, as he loomed over me. _

_With a contemptuous kick Whistler went flying away from my grasp. I felt cold slipsteel on my throat and froze. The red haze slowly died away as I heaved on the ground. I hadn't acted like that in a long time. My breath came in uneven rhythms. I had become rather lax about exercise, but I was by no means fat. _

_He gave me a disgusted look and slowly moved the sword point away from my chin. "I don't waste my blade killing pigs." He placed his blade over my crotch. "However, I am more than willing to neuter this fat little piggy." _

"_You wouldn't dare," I declared with far more bravo than I felt. I didn't know this man anymore. This wasn't the brother who had left me five years ago. _

_As if to prove his point he pushed his blade slowly forwards, ready to take my manhood in a single stab. "One stab and the piggy can't be pleasured by his maid whores. Then the problem would be solved, no more pigs coming from your pig seed. Would you like that?" _

"_Why are you here if you hate us? We never asked you to come back," I snarled at him, in part from fear of losing my manhood and in a desperate attempt to save my manhood by keeping him talking. _

"_That is enough you two!" _

_My father, my father was here! The blade retreated back to its sheath. I scrambled to my feet as my brother went on one knee, a symbol of service to one of superior status. On the steps of the dining hall, where the small patio lay, my father watched us. His large form was all muscle even in his graying age. His hair might be receding, but he was a perfect specimen for how a man might age with grace. Every night he took a dozen women and outlasted them, or so the stories said. I knew it was half a dozen and none of them was my mother. His tunic was unlaced, showing his muscular chest and at his side, sheathed in gold and wyrm leather, was his greatsword, Destroyer._

_In his youth father had been a Solaris Knight of the Empire during the counterstrike operations against the Reaper. It was said that he had lead a band of Solaris Knights straight to the black gates were the Reaper himself waited for everyman to try him in combat. Legends said hundreds of men and women of power and glory had fallen before the Reaper that day. Heroes of the Warlords legions had fallen, champions of the Empire had been smashed aside; mage and knight fell in the vain attempt to breach the city. Father had smashed through the ranks of the hell born, undying servants of the Reaper, the Inferno Riders. Few mortal men could match the Riders cloaked in flames, but father was reported to have slain the undying that day. It was said that when father finished with the Riders, the Reaper had laughed and applauded his efforts. The Warlords spared him in that moment, swearing that one day father would serve him in life or death, but for the moment father would be allowed to live. That day the Solaris Knights had been wiped out, expect for father who became the last of their order and vowed to avenge his fallen brothers who had fallen by the hand of the Warlord known as the Reaper. _

"_You have called for the Black Apostles and we have answered with the blessing of the Empress, hallowed be her name. I, as her apostle, stand ready to obey your commands," my brother gravely intoned._

_My father looked at my brother gravely and utters the words that I could not forget. "Then the war begins again." _

* * *

><p><em>AN: I'm back! And in style this time! I've lived, learned and written what I hope will be a far better season of the Warlords saga than season one was, though the last arc was that bad in my opinion, but the first arc sucked(I'm own worst critic!)._

_On subject, season two starts with a bang this time around. Three years have passed since the Cathedral of Ice Incident and the characters have grown up. It's a lot easier to write an older Nanoha (& Co) than younger ones, hence why I tried to avoid them in CoA. MR(Madness Rising) is already living up to its name! I hope this is a stronger start than CoA incorporating the horror elements to this fantasy/sci-fi/horror blend. _

_It will be a fun ride though this story as everything falls to madness on the eve of war! So I hope you will join me as we explore this oddly fascinating world that surprises even me at every twist and turn. Sometimes it seems as if the characters are more alive than just words on a word document…_

_I am looking for a new beta reader too. If you're willing to take the position send me a PM and we will talk._

_Also I am looking to expand the Warlords universe. If another talented writer(s) is(are) willing to collaborate on a side story(s) that I have sort of plotted out(or have idea so their own to expand the backstory) let me know in a PM. _

_Questions, comments and concerns should be placed in a review or PM. Remember to read and review!_


	2. Beyond the Blade, Beyond the Book I

_As night fell I stole towards the Merchant Quarters. Even as the night grew cold, the streets were busy with a steady stream of movement. Merchants were leaving their stands for their inns or various parties held by noble families. Last minute shoppers hoping to exploit the merchants desire to depart quickly and snatch a bargain price, passed by. Men and women wandered down the streets bound for the many bars that dotted the city. Hunters and outriders returned to the city, covered in dust and sweat of long days. Mercenaries swaggered down the road, bound for the bars where their boast of valor would as fictitious as their lives. _

_They could easily leave this planet and fight for any number of Warlords who would pay handsomely for their services, yet here they hide. The shield of the Empire held back the Warlords and their bloodthirsty hosts, yet these men and women who called themselves by dramatic names with even more dramatic pasts had barely lifted a slipsteel blade or staff for any task other than calling for another drink. _

_I caught sight of Kelin before he saw me. In the shadow of a nearby building at the foot of a bridge he waited, arms folded across his chest. "Kelin!" I hailed him as I walked up. He quickly looked up as if surprised by my sudden appearance. _

_"I expected you to come the other way," he offered weakly. _

_"Why would I come from the Merchant Quarters? Then I would have to travel in a circle not to mention it would take longer, but you already knew that didn't you?" I wondered why he had forgotten such a thing. We had spent hours as boys exploring every nook of the city and racing each other along streets and rooftops. He couldn't have forgotten that where I lived and expected me to come another way._

_"Ah, I knew that. It's…" he cast a quick glance down the street, "it's been a long day. We need to go." He stepped out of the shadows and started down the street. _

_I caught the flash of metal from beneath his jacket as I hastened after him. We made good time as the streets were thinning out and most of the heavy crowds had passed. Keeping an eye on him I saw the flash of metal over and over. He led me towards an alley and turned. As he did his jacket flapped enough to let me see the metal object. They were no less than a brace of splinter pistols, antique weapons favored by nobles of the Empire some two hundred years ago, but such weapons had fallen out of style quickly. That meant oval objects stuck to the bullet were splinter shards. _

_"You're a mage!" I blurted out in surprise. Splinter pistols were mage weapons of old. They used a mana trigger and spell carried bullets, but for the most part they were deemed inadequate weapons in the face of rifles, warstaves, and other bladed weapons that could use magic is similar ways. _

_He stopped, turned to me and nodded once with a serious face. "Aye, turns out I have the gift, but barely enough to cast a basic spell." He pulled one of the splinter pistols from his holster and handed it to me. _

_Gingerly I took the hilt and was struck by the masterful workmanship. It was made of some metal, heavy than slipsteel, but lighter than steel. Every bit of the metal was inscribed with oldstlye runes that I had been forced to study as a child. After the Returner War, runes came back into favor amongst certain high making mages due to their great versatility. The hilt was made of the same metal and inscribed in the same manner, but groves and cross thatches in the metal gave me a steady grip. The trigger mechanism was inlaid with some wood was I didn't know. I gave the runes a second look, but couldn't make out what they said. "Amazing! This piece is amazing. How old is it? Where did you get it?" _

_"Doesn't matter, not to ye at least. Let's just say I did a favor for an acquaintance and these were the reward," he told me evasively as I handed the splinter pistol back. He cast glance over his shoulder, down the alley and looked up. "We should go," he stated, walking away quickly._

_I didn't question him. If he wanted to keep secrets then that was his choice. It was aggravating that our friendship wasn't enough to get straight answers from him, but what choice did I have? He had seen places and done things I couldn't begin to imagine. Back before he left, he would have openly worn those pistols, showing them off to ever pretty woman, boasting about them in the bars, and more. Once more I struck by this new person that had replaced my friend._

_In short order he led me into a seedy little bar off the alley. No sign hung over the doorway and no less than four massive men, squinty eyed brutes armed with clubs, kept watch from the front door. Before we walked in I caught the sight of two more men patrolling the next alleyway. The bar was a surprise, a pleasant surprise. There was no sign of dingy little bar, but rather a sprawling room filled with rich woods, expensive fabrics and a vast selection of various drinks some of which I was unfamiliar with._

_The patrons were equally high quality. The men wore fine tunics colored in reds and purples, the colors of merchantmen. The women were as finely dressed as their male counterparts. Sheer gowns and heavy gowns with plunging neck lines were common seen. This place had no mugs or barroom maid, every guest was served by lovely serving girls finely dressed with handspun glass cups and flutes in hand. Instead of a traveling singer and loud noises, there was a quiet hum as men and woman chatted over their drinks with occasionally burst of laughter that quickly died. _

_As we entered Kelin was hailed by a dozen different voices and more quick acknowledgments before the other patrons dove back to their conversations. He briefly talked to the bartender, a young man with dyed hair, and soon I found myself in a back room. A pretty redhead served his some rich amber colored drink and a wink when I caught sight of her lovely breasts. She was fine piece that I wouldn't mine taking any day of the week. _

_"The nectar of the Vassam flower," Kelin told me, raising his glass to study it in the light. "The color comes from the sap in the stem. Alone the nectar is poison to humanoids, but the sap from the stem nullifies the poison. Of course this makes the nectar bitter so the flower petals are placed in the casks and left to sit for several years." He took a sip of the drink after taking a long sniff. _

_I followed his lead and sniffed. The nectar was rich and earthy, yet pleasant to the senses. A sip revealed the sweetness and the mellow after bit of what I assumed was the poison. All told it was a rather exquisite drink that I had never heard of. Even in my father's vast vault of drinks I had never encountered this. In the few parties put on by the Great Families I had been to, I had never seen or heard of this drink. "Why are we here?" I asked putting the glass down. _

_"By the end of the night this place will see no less than nine attempted assassinations. Of those nine at least four will use poison; the others will be knives, shooting and the like. By the time the sun rises at least three bodies will be removed from this establishment for a nominal fee paid by the killer," he told me seriously, laying an arm on the table and leaning towards me. "We are here because of that reason."_

_"To die?" I asked with a hard swallow. I certainly didn't want to die. I gave the nectar I been drinking a leery look that Kelin must have caught. He snorted in laughter and shook his head ruefully. _

_"Hardly, but this place is safe in a time when safe places are few and far between. Here we will not be overheard and arrested upon exiting the building. A certain code of honor binds the patrons here and the assassins that frequent this place. Drink my friend, it's not poisoned," he assured me with a long sip of his own drink. _

_Gingerly I took another sip. It was no longer the heady, aromatic fragrance in light of the revelations I had learned. "We're here to meet assassins? Your friends…are they…" I left the question unfinished as he nodded. _

_"Aye, everyone I'm going to introduce to you tonight is a killer, some trained in the greatest schools, some self-taught, a few from families of killers, but, one and all, we are killers, assassins." _

_I didn't miss that he had included himself with as one of the killers. It explained the pistols though. For all the flak they had taken the splinter pistols were silent and when the bullets were hundreds of shards accuracy didn't matter. Anyone on the receiving end would be shredded and bleed to death if not killed outright. "I can't believe you're a killer. Find me when you're ready to tell the truth and we'll talk," I told him in disbelief. I stood, but had barely taken a step towards the door when he caught my arm. I tugged slightly, but his grip was like slipsteel. "Let go," I growled. _

_"No, you said that you wanted to change the Empire. I'm offering you the chance to do more than kill every Rubber Skin whore and hope they stop coming because they won't stop coming," he explained patronizingly. "Put away the childish actions and take real actions that can bring about real change. Embrace the adulthood and become the man, lose the man and rise with us." _

_I could see a fire burning in his eyes. He spoke passionately as if he believed what he said. Perhaps it was time to put aside the boy and embrace the man. He did have a point about the whores. The aliens would come one way or another. Like an endless tide they would swarm over the works of man so long as they could do so in the safety granted by the Empress's will. They would suck humankind dry, both literally and figuratively. When that was done they would move on to the next race that rose up when we were all gone. That bleak future would us as a shell, dry and empty of everything that made us great. For the sake of the humankind I could abandon my past actions, for that reason I could fight as a grown man against the aliens. _

_"I knew you were ready," Kelin told me with an easy smile, "You just needed the right push or I would have had to wait a few years. You know you space out when you're thinking deeply, right?" _

_"What of it?" I shot back with faux indignantly. _

_The door opened suddenly, and as I looked up several newcomers entered the room. More came after them, filling the large table I had been sitting at. Each was dressed differently; a merchant, mercenary clerk, guard, Imperial official, noble, knight and a few others I didn't recognize by their grab. Most barely gave me a glance as they took their seat. The pretty redheaded served the newcomers their drinks, but fled quickly with a fearful glance over her shoulder. It was a pity I would be getting anything from that one; she was a frightened animal and would run from a hunter like me tonight. _

_The last man entered the room came moments after the girl had fled. The door opened noiselessly and he entered, dressed in black. He wore the solid black of the Black Apostles and I watched him intently even as I returned to my seat. He moved with a predatory grace to the chair at the head of the table. He alone took no drink nor spoke to anyone. _

_"Let us begin," he intoned after several minutes. "By the will of the Black Apostles, let this meeting of the Heirs of Segmond begin!"_

* * *

><p>"There's no place like home," Yunno Scrya told himself brightly as he opened the door to his small apartment. The small apartment was all he needed and modestly decorated in a manner befitting his station. The TSAB had been more than willing to offer him a position in the Infinity Library; the reputation of the Scrya clan was well known and honored. They had offered him a mid-level officer accommodations and he had gracefully accepted. Anything smaller and he wouldn't have had the room to spread his texts outs.<p>

Having never known his birth parents and the fact that the clan liked to move around, he made a point never to get too attached to an object. His apartment reflected that trait. The tables were plain and the lone couch was monotone, much like the rest of the apartment. The only true personal touch was the vast collection of texts he removed from the Library for various reasons and the bookcases he had ordered from Mid-Childa, but even then the cases were plain.

The small coffee table was covered in open books and it was those books he headed for first. He let himself fall into the couch and let out a content sigh before he grabbed one of the one texts he had been working on. Often the Library would get books written in a language that no one had heard over or hadn't spoken in thousands of years. This text in his hands was one such book. He had been attempting to decipher the language before he handed it off to the linguist, but the strange characters evaded him. His archeological work had led him to numerous stranger symbols and languages that the linguists in the Library thought he might recognize and had asked him to take a look at the texts first.

He called up a holoscreen and quickly typed his password in. The files appeared onscreen and he paused for a moment. "Notes or reports?" he wondered aloud. The reports would have official accounts that his clan published, but the notes might have the detail he needed that probably would have been excluded from the reports. "Notes," he told himself.

Upon opening the file he was confronted by thousands upon thousands of documents. The personal notes of his clan were kept here, each page carefully uploaded and the original document sealed away in one of the vaults they had hidden across a dozen worlds. He called up a scan he had made of the book's characters and launched a search program. There was a ringing noise as bell shaped icon appeared in the corner of the screen. Reading the caller ID, he minimized the search window and opened a new screen to take the call.

"Working again?" the elderly man in a fine bathroom asked with a smile.

"You caught me. What can I do for you Director? Is this about the books I checked out because I'll be done with them in two days," he said quickly jumping to what he assumed was the logical reason behind this call.

"No, nothing like that," the Director said, stroking his short reddish gray beard. "Besides, I told you to call me Jon. Not like I need every single simpleton in this placed sucking up at once," he grumbled.

"Sorry," Yunno replied sheepishly. "Has something happened? You're out of the office too." The Director was an apartment of some kind. Firelight cast long shadows on the wall behind the man.

"You could say that." Jon sat up straight and cleared his throat. "When I reached Ros- I mean my apartments I found a message from Director Crowbel."

"What?" Yunno gasped in surprise. It was rare that one of the heads of the TSAB called on anyone other than a division head and Jon was hardly the Head Librarian.

"Shh," Jon urged him, "let me speak." He waited for a nod from the blonde boy and went on. "As I was saying, Director Crowbel has something of a special assignment for us. It turns out a certain matter has arisen, the sort that needs to be dealt with carefully and quietly. This issue has taken on a personal note though, as it involves the book in the Library being altered."

"Impossible! Every book is an original copy or second edition. The dimensional flux in the Repository means we literally get every copy of a book not protected by certain magics. You can't alter the books because they are just data, plus the mainframe would have to be changed!" It was nearly impossible to think that his books, odd her hadn't thought of them like that before, would be or even could be changed. Only the highest ranking members of the Library could even enter the mainframe room, let alone the Repository. To suggest that books were being changed would mean corruption at the highest level of the Library.

"That's what I said, so I contacted the Director myself. She assured me that what she thinks has happened and the repercussions are spreading faster and faster. Right now she had a hand on the situation, but not for too much longer. You and I are to look into the altered books and find out was changed and why, how it relates to the message that is, and look into who did this and why," Jon finished and took a deep breath.

"They…changed…my…books…" Yunno muttered under his breath. Men thought they could play around with the knowledge of ages and civilizations, the works men and women spent their lives and fortunes creating, and then someone thought they could just walk in and change it to suit their agenda. Such a thing was treason to the past, morals, history, truth and most of all an affront to the books themselves. Such things could not be allowed to go on unchecked. Such things had to be fixed and the traitors who dared to mess with the true history punished like the Asuran people did; injected with a slow acting poison that would slowly turn the body to stone, starting with the skin and ending with the organs. The last organ to go was the heart, and then the soul was extracted and placed back into the stone body to suffer for all time. Such a fate would be too good for these bastards who dared to screw with his books!

He never saw the smile on Jon's face or the woman calling Jon to bed. "I see your realize the severity of the situation," Jon told him, breaking him away from sorting through various torture methods and needed equipment. "In the morning I will launch an internal investigation under the guise of a review and I want to you to take a look at the altered books then. To see what information you can come up with, " Jon clarified. "Understand?"

"I understand," Yunno parroted, hardly feeling like understanding anything. "This is all speculation right now. I haven't seen the evidence, no evidence of tampering yet means nothing is wrong yet," he told himself trying to calm himself down. "I need to see evidence then I can draw conclusions, yes evidence then conclusions."

Jon nodded sagely with a proud smile. "I know this is hard on you, but I applaud you on your self-control. I've known other Scrya would have demanded heads already and already be halfway to the Library to string up the entire staff until someone talked," he said with a mirthful laugh. "Your clan takes true history very seriously don't they?"

"Yes sir," Yunno said with a vigorous nod, "we have to. Too many people want to change the facts to suit their needs and that is wrong. It's a disservice to the people lived in the past, what they did and to those who went out of their way to record the events around them. It's the ultimate slap in the face that can ruin reputations that makes noble figures into monsters all because the words are changed."

The old man laughed openly, a hearty laugh that belied his advancing age. "Oh my boy," he wiped a fake tear from his eye, "that is why I love your clan. You are so serious from a young age and focus on becoming the perfect historians, archeologists and researchers. I only wish he had a dozen more of your clan working in the Library and not out digging for Lost Logia. We might even be able to get in the storerooms without losing someone under the cascade of books!"

Yunno smiled and laughed a bit. He had been subjected to the dangers of the storerooms more than once. It was a rite of passage within the Library after a fashion; the newest member of the staff would be sent to retrieve a book from the storeroom, but the moment one of those doors was opened all they got was a face full of book which they would then have to repack having failed to find the assigned book. Thus far not a single person had found the book requested every time. Some thought it didn't exist, but most thought it was buried in the very back of the storeroom in a corner or enthroned by its fellow books. The Throne of Knowledge someone had called in many years ago and the name had stuck. It was every librarian's quest to reach the one who sat on the Throne and some like Jon had dedicated their entire lives to finding the Throne, even if it was nothing more than office rumor.

"I suppose we'll need my entire clan to find the Throne though they might rip up the Library when they hear about this situation," Yunno jested thinking back to some of the more extreme members of his clan he had grown up around. He could name at least five who would go on a witch hunt that would be bloody and violent. Another ten came to mind that would lose all common sense if they heard of books being altered and the culprits would suffer. The use of barrier and restraining magic was amazingly versatile for mages who knew what they were doing. A barrier in the proper place wouldn't allow air in and chains could hold a culprit underwater with ease until they drowned.

"Oh no you don't," Jon said warningly, shaking a finger. "I know that look. You Scrya are all the same, down to the same glimmer when to think about making your enemies pay and I'll have none of that." He lowered his hand and went on. "Besides, your methods have nothing on Lycian Fire Blood torture, truly nasty stuff. Turns the victim inside out and replaces their blood with fire," he shook his head ruefully. "Creative I'll admit, but you should look it up some time."

"I'll be sure to," Yunno answered slowly. "In the morning then, I can wait that long." He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

"Good, in the morning then- omphf!"

Jon was suddenly engulfed by woman in white loose bathrobe. Yunno identified the woman as one of Jon's three sectaries. Rose was an older woman, but the rejuvenation treatments did their work well. Yunno smirked as she whined about being ignored in favor of work, nuzzling Jon's neck. Yunno felt a blush starting to form and quickly said his farewells. "Goodnight Director, I won't tell anyone about you taking advantage of your staff."

"You brat! I'll-"

Yunno ended the call just as Rose realized he had been watching and screeched. He would never be able to look at the normally serve and reserved woman the same again. He was sure that every time he walked past her station to reach Jon's office he wouldn't be able to help, but snicker quietly. At he had something to hold over Jon's head for all the good blackmail would do on his, after a fashion, mentor.

There was chime telling him the search was done and he quickly opened the file. He would have to keep himself busy and think about other things other than the desecrators who had touched his books! He quickly slapped his cheek and banished such thoughts. "Focus on the matter at hand," he chided himself.

The search had come back negative, but another icon appeared in the corner. The icon for partial matches was flashing green. With a shaking hand, excited by the thought of breaking the book's code, he touched the icon and his jaw dropped. Hundreds of records were listed. Opening the first he jumped to the correct section and saw what he wanted. The notes had the same characters as the books! Holding up the book and started comparing the two sets of characters with glee. There were identical, though in different orders. His clan had encounter the characters before and that meant he could at least add to their knowledge if not decipher the entire language. Eagerly he started to read the notes. "No sleep tonight," he told himself exuberantly. "You're mine," he told the book with a smile. What was sleep when he had work to do and a code to crack? Nothing, nothing important.

* * *

><p>Silence fell over the freighter yards, yet amongst the ships lights still blazed and men moved about. Frost covered the windows as cold winds whipped past the ships and warehouses. Winter was coming to Mid-Childa and soon the freighters that carried supplies from Cranagan to the frontier towns in the Altseim District, to the small towns beyond the mountains would stop running for the most part. Many of the forecasts called for one of the harshest winters and no captain was willing to risk their vessel making the dangerous journey up and down the Altseim Straight with such a chance looming overhead. The threat of sea ice was grew by the day and the last of the freighters would be in port within two days.<p>

For one Knight of Belka the situation was far more treacherous than mere sea ice. She gambled with lives and had no choice, but to win. Stamping fur clad boots to try to warm her feet, she once more hated the tight coat she had been forced into. Around her men in matching black uniforms, each with a pin of a snake on the collar, shifted nervously. Five more waited by the back entrance, fingers twitching in anticipation.

A year of work had led up to this moment. Today they would capture one of the biggest names in the drug smuggling and slaving rings within the administered worlds. By morning they would be locked up or she and her allies would be dead. _It could either way_ she thought grimly and felt around in her pocket for her Device. The familiar sword shaped necklace gave her confidence even when her dress did not. The woman she was supposed to be should have loved such clothing, furs and uncomfortably tight, short dresses.

"Dame Gabrielle," one of the uniformed men called out as he ran from the other entrance to the warehouse. He reached them easily and caught his breath after a moment. "They're here. They must have brought fifty men at least."

Signum let out a long breath, letting the let wisp dissipate before she spoke. "They have us surrounded by now. The moment something happens to their boss we'll be hit from every side," she stated flatly. "We cannot take them today," she told one of the men who wore a silver stripe across his lapel in addition to the pin.

"Nonsense, I won't take orders from a convict. The op goes ahead as planned," the bald man commanded confidently.

He was her handler, her chain to the TSAB, and her executioner if it came to that. "We'll all die if we try to take Allen here. They have the numerical advantage and the tactical advantage. Even if we take him and his people as hostages we will still be killed. The op has to be aborted, we make the trade and try again later," Signum insisted, trying to get the man to see reason.

"No, I give the orders, end of story. We go ahead, am I clear?"

His tone had been threatening and she knew why. One bad word from him and she would be locked up for the rest of her life, however long that might be. One back word and Hayate would never have her guardian knight back by her side. The bald man didn't know what crime she had committed and she intended to keep it that way. Telling another person without clearance about the Book of Darkness incident would land her in jail. She held her tongue and turned away, watching as the warehouse doors on the other end of the building opened. Two dozen men entered; their staffs and other exotic weapons in hand. She saw her men go for their weapons, but held up a hand to stop them. Most obeyed as six large, brutes of men escorted a smaller man in. The armed men spread out in front of the small man and his giants as they advanced towards the center of the warehouse where she waited.

"Ah Dame Gabrielle, we meet at last," the small man greeted her, pushing past his giant guards.

"So we do, Mr. Allen." Allen Wetrons was what many would call perfectly average. No one feature stood out from his brown hair, black eyes, slightly tanned skin, and healthy build. It was what lay beneath that had made him so dangerous; his mind. A genius in his own right, Allen had joined the TSAB quickly climbing the ranks before he was discovered to be taking drugs in his office and dealing them from his home. His fall had been swift and merciless. All at once his entire life's work was ripped away leaving a gaping hole that filled with loathing and desire for revenge. His mind had driven him into the shadows and so he found himself as the newest and best smuggler on Mid. Every drug shipment that passed through his hands was money that became the mercenaries and weapons he planned to use against the TSAB, or so his file claimed.

"Then let us not waste time with the pleasantries." A nasty smile formed on his face. "As your man no doubt informed you, I have this place surrounded. Insurance you could call it. I've lost good, good friends to those mages in the TSAB in these kind of deals, you understand of course?"

The false sincerity in his voice when he spoken of his good friends was indisputable; many of those raids had been formed due to his tipoffs so he could remove his competition without having to dirty his hands too much. "I understand. In this line of work one can never take too many chances."

He clapped his hands and his men brought out several large crates. "Open them for the rich lady."

The men quickly lifted the lids after placing ladders on each side and placed a small ladder for her to peer inside. Allen offered to hold the ladder, an unnecessary task, but she knew what he wanted to see. She wore a dress and the crate was just higher than two men. He was hoping for a panty peek and she couldn't refuse him. Dame Gabriella was a loose woman, both physically and morally, and as much as she loathed it she had no choice. This was the role she had to play so she might stand beside Hayate in freedom. The TSAB hadn't forgotten the deaths caused by the Book before Hayate was their master and they were slower to forgive such crimes even if the Wolkenritter had little to do with the actions the Book took after it was awoken.

Inside she suppressed the urge to snarl and cut Allen down here and now. The crate was packed with nude slaves, every single one of them female and marked with a brand on the palm. Most of these girls were taken from non-administered worlds to become mysterious vanishings, alien abductions and cold cases. Allen Wetrons had recently gotten in the slave business and the TSAB had decreed that enough was enough. Drugs were one thing, put slaves were another. The fact that Mid had a booming underground slave trade within the pleasure districts was an issue few in the TSAB were willing to tackle head on.

"How many? I asked for at least fifty," she reminded him, having composed herself back into the mask of Dame Gabrielle.

"And I have brought you seventy," Allen told her, graciously offer her his hand as she climbed down. She ignored the hand as he went on. "Two of the crates have the girls for your club and the third has the drugs. I have another eight crates of girls and eleven of drugs being loaded onto a truck that I've decided to throw in for free. After all, you have just become one of my best customers."

"The extra twenty girls, how much?" Signum demanded as her persona would.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Allen assured her, waving away her concern. "Consider them a gift…though…"

"You and your boys will always have a place at my clubs Mr. Allen," she told him, giving the answer he expected. That was the way the industry worked; give and take. Some of those girls were little more than children, but for some of the sicker minds on Mid the younger was better. The TSAB existed to stop men like Allen and left the social battles to the planetary governor, one of the last vestiges of Mid-Childan autonomy.

"Good, I suppose you want to see the drugs as well," he asked and she nodded. Another crate was quickly opened and once more she climbed the ladder giving Allen a show. The lacy yellow panties had been picked as Allen had a weakness for the color, something a powerful and connected woman like Dame Gabrielle would know and play to.

Instead of slave girls, she saw packages of a blue grey powder, package neatly and carefully laid into the crate in such a way to maximize the amount per crate. The drug was called Tranquility and officially classified as a dangerous club drug. Signum ran over the symptoms as she checked a bag; hallucinations, giddiness, hyper sensitivity, increased reaction time, memory loss, strength enhancement came first. Then came the withdrawal; loss of appetite, blood poisoning, cellular degeneration over a long period of time, degeneration of internal organs, memory loss and death. Possessing Tranquility was enough for four years prison time, using it was five years and selling it was a fifty year sentence. For a man like Allen that would be compounded by slave charges, which meant he would never walk free once he was taken.

"It does seem to be in order, Mr. Allen," she said beckoning one of her guards to come forward with a large case carried in both hands. The man set the case down and unlatched the top. "Open it," she commanded the slaver.

With a hint of greed in his eyes, Allen flipped the case open and smiled widely. Quickly he shut the case and turned to her with a wide smile. "All fifty million?" he asked slowly.

"In the other cases," Signum told him beckoning the rest of her men to come forward with the other five cases. "Ten million per case, where is my truck?"

"Just a moment," he said suddenly backing away from the money. He took a small orb from of his men and a hologram of a man she recognized as his chief lieutenant.

Warily, she watched the slaver when she saw movement of her own men. It seemed the bald man was done waiting. The fool was ready to give up everything and try to take down the slavers here and now. When she saw the bald man open his mouth she realized with horror what he was about to do. Cursing under her breath, she slid her hand over Laveatien and almost activated the Device. The TSAB men had stayed back and the distance to Allen's men was too great. The slavers would have a free shot at the TSAB men.

"Take them!" the bald man cried out, charging Allen.

For a moment there was confusion in the slaver's ranks. Allen dropped the hologram, but the damage was done. The slavers had heard the TSAB man and had the advantage of distance. Then the shooting started as the yells and screams filled the air. Silently she activated Laveatien and her Knight Armor. The familiar armor was a welcomed relief from the damned dress.

Men screamed and fell as magic came into play. Diving behind a crate she watched a TSAB mage fall prey to a bolt of white magic and his chest explode. Blood and shredded organs coated the floor. The slavers were playing no games; the safety protocols on their magic had been removed. Killing was the only option the slavers considered now. "Purple Lighting Flash!" Her blade burst into flames and she threw herself towards the nearest slavers who had advanced far ahead of their fellows.

In two blows the men fell to the ground, arcane flames flickering on their clothing. Battle honed instinct called out to her and she threw herself away the ground where she had been erupted. In a moment she saw the caster, a weedy looking fellow, but her time was up. She saw one of Allen's brutes lunge at her from the left. She barely caught the fist with the flat of her blade. The brute screamed as arcane flames brunt its hand.

Throwing herself backwards she landed lightly, wishing she could fly. The TSAB restricted such things in the city and she was no exception. The brute, half blind from pain, screamed as he charged her again. With a steady hand she dodged the wild swing and Laveatien bit deeply into the leg. The brute went down, screeching in pain as its leg bled.

Wild shots from some weapon hit the ground near her. She found her target and in a flash was upon him. The man, he was no mage, went down after a swift blow to the head, still confused by her sudden appearance. Another man rushed her, firing his weapon as he did. "Panzerschild." The Belkan shield caught the bullets and she quickly overloaded the spell. He stumbled blindly in the afterglow and she brought him down with a solid blow to the back of the head.

Looking up she saw her handler fighting two men in spiked clubs. Most of the fighting was done, the TSAB had been beaten. TSAB mages lay still on the floor, a handful still fighting the slavers. The floor was soaked in blood, the air thick with the tang of blood and screams of pain as men died. The familial scent of death hung over the warehouse, mingling with the smell of feces and shredded organs. Though it was something, she supposed as she brought another slaver down, that most of the slavers and their brutes had fallen. More slavers were entering in ones and twos. "Time to go," she told herself before rushing the men assaulting her handler.

She needed the bald man alive in any case. "Purple Lighting Flash." The flames came to life with greater ferocity. The handler caught one of the slavers blows with a hastily shield spell and it gave her an opening. Without a moment's hesitation she struck from behind, a downward blow to the head toppled the slaver his hair burning. With the same momentum she blocked a vicious strike from the other slaver with the hilt. The slaver began to push and she saw his mistake in a moment. He locked his legs in a vain attempt to overpower her. She lashed out, shifting her stance enough to allow her leg room to bend, and her armored boot connected just above the kneecap. The slaver went down in a flash, screaming and cursing as he clutched his knee.

"We have to go," Signum firmly told the handler, pulling him behind a row of tall crates.

"No we can still win," the man insisted, trying to push past her. His clothes were ripped and his forehead was bleeding, obscuring the left eye in blood.

She grabbed him and held him in place against a crate. "You're in no condition to fight. Your men are dead or dying and we surrounded. Retreat is the only option if you want to live," she rationalized. She kept a hand on the handler and watched for other slavers. The screaming and moaning blocked out any chance of hearing the enemy approach. Shamal's wide area search spell would have helped, but she quickly moved on. There was no point in thinking about what she didn't have.

"We have to fight. We can still win!" The handler went on, insisting the same thing over and over. He was confident the two of them could win.

If she had access to every spell and weapon form she might have been able to bring all the slavers down, but it was no so. The TSAB had sealed most of her spells and Laveatien was stuck in its sword form. "Release the seal on me, quickly!"

The bald man glared at her suspiciously. "Why would I do that? You're a felon. You'll just fly away and I'll take the fall for it."

Slavers were gathering, she saw them moving through the warehouse. Screams of dying mages became worse as the slavers found them and began to play with the wounded. "If you don't release the seal, we'll all die! I swear to you, on my honor as a Belkan Knight, I will not abandon you and you will survive this night," she told him solemnly, turning to meet his eyes as she took the vow. There was no vow more solemn she could offer this man; he was hardly worthy of the Kaiser Vow.

He regarded her with open distrust, but slowly nodded. "I know you Belkans. You take your oaths seriously." He raised a hand as she turned her attention back to the slavers.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the telltale light of the magic circle as her handler removed the seal. The man said something, a voice command, as she saw Allen enter the warehouse, having apparently fled when the fighting began. With him came a dozen more slavers. Their time was running short. She felt a thrill rush through her body as mana began to flow almost as it would if she had no seals. Every spell was open to her expect Laveatien bow form and its spell, but she had made due with less in tighter situations than this.

"You have twenty minutes," the bald man told her. "That's all I can do."

"That's enough," she said, watching the slavers movements. She saw a TSAB mage be hauled up by two slavers and Allen approached the man. Two more brutes entered the warehouse and took up station behind the TSAB mage. Allen appeared to be questioning the man and Signum knew this would not end well for the TSAB mage. The TSAB had underestimated the slavers and would pay the blood price today. For all their work on Mid-Childa, the TSAB could not change the evil nature that lurked in every man. The more light they brought to the planet, the more the darkness grew.

Just before she could cast her flight spell, the foreseen blow fell. One of the brutes smashed the TSAB mage's head into the floor, over and over again. She didn't need to see the blood and gore on the brute's hands or the floor to tell her there was no hope for that man. Death would be a relief if he wasn't already dead. "Time to go," she told the man. "Hold on to my shoulders," she instructed as she crouched.

"My men…"

"Are already dead or will be dead within a half an hour. The slavers were more powerful than the TSAB expected." It might have been stating the obvious, but the man needed to hear it for his report. Signum began to layer a barrier type spell in over her head. She wouldn't be able to slice a way out with a passenger. Smashing through was the only choice she had. "I have no idea how long I can carry both of us, be prepaid for anything."

"Are they…are my men…dead?" the man asked in horror. He deactivated the device with shaky hands, the standard staff vanished and he gripped her shoulders.

"Yes," she replied tensely, grunting as she stood. The he weighed more than her and had a death grip on her shoulders. "Hang on," she warned him one last time and jumped. The added weight forced to her pour more mana into the flight spell. She aimed herself towards a section of the roof between two beams were the metal should have been thinner.

The impact was jarring, she felt the handler nearly lose his grip, before she narrowed the barrier spell. The purple light from the impact cut through the metal, even as spells and bullets raced past them. She heard the metal groan after a few moments. A second later it burst and they shot through the new whole as the metal gave way. She felt metal shards slip past her barrier and cut her legs.

She guided them towards the next rooftop as the slavers gave chase, wincing in pain as she touched down and took a running start to reach the next rooftop. The night air was clear and free of stench of blood. Whizzing bullets reminded her of the wars of Belka when she fought in the skies as the world died below her. Once upon a time she would have placed her handler down somewhere safe and faced the slavers alone, but the times had changed. She had to live free to be with her mistress again and she needed this man on her back safe to reach that goal.

As she jumped and glided towards the city she felt her mana begin to burn. She had forcibly feeding the spell and it was hurting her body. Soon she would have to stop or run the risk of damaging herself permanently. It was too far to the city and more importantly people. People seeing the slavers would end the chase. The dark would not stand to be revealed to the light.

The number of bullets and magic bolts started to fade as the first lights of the city came into sight. She wanted to fall over in exhaustion, the stress of force feeding the flight spell and supporting the weight of her passenger was taking a heavy toll. Just a minutes to catch her breath would be a welcome reprieve, but a minute could be the difference between life and death. Hayate would never accept her death and Signum honestly feared what her mistress would do if one of the Wolkenritter died. So she pushed herself onwards, forcing her body to move.

~Unidentified object, you are in restricted airspace! Cease all flight and await contact with TSAB or local officers. Acknowledge.~

~Acknowledge, identity 465D7-charles-alpha-fly,~ she told the TSAB observer. The nearest observation point was a tower that overlooked the port. ~I need a medevac on my location. Wounded officer with head wound and armed hostiles in pursuit.~

~Understood, am I to assume you have Captain Reyonlds?~

~Correct~ she told the observer as she landed on a lit street. The civilians around them scattered as she landed and watched in curiosity. She grabbed the Captain, who had fallen to the ground unconscious as they landed, and dragged him to a storefront. Leaning him against the glass she waited, sword out, and watched for slavers looking to finish the job. She couldn't go on for long, but she might be able to draw the slavers into a prolonged battle long enough for the TSAB support to arrive.

The crowd looked on, but none came forward to help or voiced an offer to assist. As she scanned the crowd men and women flinched away and melted into the crowd, new faces taking their places. No one wanted to be the first to offer aid; each thinking that the person beside them would be the first to say something and then they would jump in.

"What on earth?" a middle aged man said, pushing his way forward. "Oh my!" He quickly ran to the Captain's side and knelt down. "I'm a doctor," he told Signum as she menacingly stepped towards him. "Or rather I'm a surgeon with the TSAB." Fishing a card form his pocket he flicked it at the Knight then began to examine the wounds.

"Doctor Rufus Beckard." Signum repeated the name a few times, wondering where she had heard it before. "That's right!" Shamal had mentioned he was one of the foremost surgeons the TSAB had on staff with dozens of papers she had found fascinating, but the man was supposed to be on vacation. "Can you help him?"

The doctor didn't look up as he examined the head wound carefully. "Not here, not without my equipment, but I can do something about the bleeding," he went on speaking as a Mid-Childa circle appeared in front of his hand. "You see I have to talk when I work. Too many thoughts at once. Makes no sense to me, but I never been into the whole impulses and neurons. I'm a surgeon, not a scientist after all."

Signum tuned the man out when she saw the blood flow all but stop. The time limit was up. She felt the mana pathways tighten and dissolved the passive barrier she had kept around herself. Once again she was sealed, back to a mere fraction of her power. Overhead she heard of the roar of a helicopter. A flight aerial mages descended from the helicopter, landing near her, and began to usher the crowd. The whirling lights from local law enforcement arrived moments later as the area was blocked off. She sagged against a streetlight and deactivated Laveatien, slipping the necklace around her neck. For a moment she considered deactivating her Armor, but ruled against it. It would put her back into that damned dress. She shut her eyes slowly as the doctor assisted the others medics in loading the Captain onto the helicopter.

"What happened?" a woman dressed in an Enforcer uniform asked her as she helped Signum to her feet.

"Arrogance took its payment," Signum told the woman through half lidded eyes. She was exhausted, far more exhausted then she had ever been. Once upon a time she could have done everything she had done on this evening a dozen times before she felt such exhaustion, but mana was the life blood of mages. It supported their bodies. Her body was operating at less than half its normal amount and she suffered for it. She let herself be led along by the woman and helped on to the helicopter.

"Blood has been spilled. Death has wetted its tongue." Those words were of an ancient mantra of Belka she mummured in her native tongue as the helicopter roared to life. After the first battle every knight would utter those words to remind themselves it was the start of a greater conflict and more blood would be spilled before the end. _How many times have I uttered those words? How many wars have fought with those words said? _She leaned against the metal and tried to rest. The sealed mana flow was wreaking havoc with her body and she needed the rest now even more than ever before. She muttered the last lines of the mantra. "Into the jaws of death I ride forever. To forever be wed to war, this is the oath of the Knight I uphold here and beyond the jaws of death."

* * *

><p>The thump of fists on chests and the sound of marching feet filled the cool morning air. Warsmith pro tempore Ronald Weasley watched as the wizards gathered on the blasted lands before Hogwarts. The Forbidden Forest was all but gone, brunt to ash. The lake was a third of its original size and once more wizards gathered before their venerated school to go to war again. The Merlin Resolution had passed after two long years of debate; with no evidence of aggression many families were unwilling to commit to any action. Day in and day out, he had spent waiting and watching the politicians play their games. The saving grace was simply that the Witches Coven had barely moved and never once in three years made a threatening move against them.<p>

He still hated his job, but he had come to accept it. Harry was gone, no one had heard from him since he vanished in Japan. Aurors and reporters had scoured the world for their Warsmith and found no trace of him. In time he was declared missing and the official searches halted, yet every few weeks he would see a report of another failed private search to find his friend. The title hadn't been passed on and Ron knew it never would. The wizards loved having Harry as their Warsmith and the love affair didn't abate even when he wasn't around. Personally he knew that Harry was in seclusion, probably working out his problems and enjoying life, but he didn't want to lead this army into battle. That was Harry's field, he after was a just a strategist.

The last six months had nothing but training. Wizards and witches from many nations slowly gathered. At last report he had less than six hundred men with most being the recently arrived Russian units. Wizards liked to fight by themselves, to seek out their enemies and duel them. For hundreds of years that had been the tradition of wizard wars, and he had to go against the paradigm. Most of these men and women were his age or younger and the fighting they knew was schoolyard brawls. Harry had led a successful campaign against Voldemort using the individualistic nature of wizards to great effect, but this was different.

Creatures from the Far Realms had been brought into the world to serve the Witches Coven. Sightings in Africa and the Americans reported appearances of homunculi and even a sighting or two of the dreaded fay. A spotter in Beijing claimed to have seen a lich, but was unsure. To Ron such a report was disturbing to say the least. One needed only look at a book on magical creatures to see the vast lists of creatures wizards had banished to the Far Realms ages ago. He hadn't even heard of the fae and fay until Hermione had dropped by his office and dropped a dusty tome on his desk mere days before. She had uttered one word and departed. Read, she had said and he did.

Against the enemies of wizards this army would be needed. Fairy, lich, fae, minotaur, orc, beastmen, Al-Ghouls, Hunters, fay, Lamenters, Highborns and a host of others answered the summons of the Coven. Every single race been imprisoned by the wizards in the past, all banished at the height of Arcadia's power after the Glade Wars. It was a bloodthirsty host gathered for the sole purpose to wipe out every witch and wizard. So the wizards trained to fight in rank, to support their friends, to unlearn everything they had learned, yet he had no plan to give the Coven a standup fight. If he had a hundred times the amount gathered here he might consider it, but six hundred was nothing even when the Chinese wizards linked up with them with their four hundred fighters.

He turned to face the grim faced men and women behind him, his war council. Most had fought in at least one of the last three uprisings of Dark Lords. Even for them his tactics had stunning and so unconventional that even those he had fought with in the Second War doubted them. Nervously he rubbed his palms once down his robes, plain and practical black for the winter season. "I'll explain the battle plan once more. We cannot attack the Coven directly," he gestured to the conjured table and map of the world.

"You've gone nuts," the commander of the American exiles commented. "This plan is insane."

"If you have a better idea then please share," the grim faced, bone thin Agatha Wolen silenced the American.

Agatha was a veteran of three uprisings and commanded of the Russian units. Ron knew a little of her past. She had been born in London, but her father moved the family to Moscow before the Second World War began. She never left Russia, fighting for the Russian Ministry as one of the foremost masters of alchemic warfare. Agatha of the Thousand Blades, the Bladed Demon the Nazi SS had called her and she had rightfully earned it. Where other alchemists sought the Philosophers Stone she recreated an entire branch of magic, imbedded alchemy that allowed one to seal things into oneself for later use. Where others might have chosen different things to seal, Agatha used her skills to cut the SS. Rumors stated that she had a thousand seals on her body, each containing a blade of some kind. Other rumors stated she took her enemies heads and sealed them into her body to use as distractions.

Ron gave the old woman a nod of appreciated that she returned with a scornful look. He wasn't the leader she wanted, but he was all they had. In his heart, he was a strategist; tactics and logistics were his forte. Harry had been the master of all aspects of warfare, from assault to siege, his friend had proven his worth from the front line; a god of war in the modern age, an unstoppable machine of death when he got going, the Merlin and Dumbledore of the new age.

"We cannot match the Coven with the forces here. When the Chinese join us we will still be outnumbered ten to one at least. So I've come up with a plan that will work what we have." Ron took a deep breath and prepared himself to sell his plan one last time. All the commanders had to agree before any of their forces could act. "Using small teams of three to five we will hit the Far Realms. The teams drop in, blast everything they can see and then get out. We hit them over and over again. The creatures of the Far Realms should be force to defend their homes or fight here. We have to make them want to defend their homes. Once that's done we'll move into China with two thirds of our forces, reequip everyone, link up with the Chinese Ministry and move into Japan. The half that remains here will have to keep the pressure up on the Far Realms. We can't let those creatures get wind of the assault on the Coven until it's too late. The ones in Japan advance on foot to the Japanese coast then take the gate they've set up there." He pointed to a small stretch of land in the Shikko region and drew a line out to sea. "Here," he pointed to a stretch of empty ocean, "the Fortress Camelot is located."

"What? You mean THE Camelot? As in Merlin and Arthur?" the French commander, Louie D'Tantale, asked in shock. "Do legends live again?" he asked with a hearty laugh. His men called him Louie the Baker, the man never went anywhere without a sweet food in hand and he had the gut to prove it, but his wandwork was far superior to the average wizard.

"Yes, they do. The fae and fay stole it in the last days of the Fifth Glade War. They took it with them into the Far Realms and Arcadia fell," Agatha informed the Frenchmen sharply, though her voice was tinged with regret when she spoke of the loss of Camelot. "Arcadia collapsed without the keystone we called the Fortress of Camelot. Those bastards will pay for it now though."

"Because we're a-comin' to collect the rent with extra interest!" The American exile grinned savagely as several other commanders agreed.

It wasn't that the American exile was an arrogant man; he wasn't really all that bad. The witches of the camp certain thought highly of him, but he had a few rough edges such as a habit to argue with the other commanders and advocate spur of the moment decisions that seemed good. A former military man that had resigned his commission after the American wizards refused to get in involved in a war against the Coven; that alone spoke volumes about Hunter Valen's true character.

"Exactly," Ron agreed. "Once we're aboard the Camelot we can reseal the Coven for good using the four Treasures of Britain that we know are within the walls. With a bit of luck we might even be able to recapture the Camelot and take control of it." It was hard for him to miss the pleased smiles from the commanders. Every witch and wizard would want the Camelot returned to its rightful heirs. The chance to be a part of the army that took back their prized fortress meant a chance to be enshrined in glory eternal. "We only need to decide which squads will be where, if you are all in agreement."

"Ah, to hell with it! You're an insane son of a bitch, but I'm game," Hunter quickly agreed, no doubt hoping he would get the honor of leading the first assault on the Camelot.

"I find this plan satisfactory upon consolation with my Ministry," Louie informed him.

"My comrades and I will march with you," Agatha asserted. "We insist on being the ones to attack the Far Realms though."

"I had you in mind already," Ron told her. He had expected the Russians to insist on leading the charge into enemy lands and their battle magic was uniquely suited for such a task. The other commanders gave nods of approval, but most of them had already spoken to him before this meeting. The big players had needed to come around to his plan, though it sounded like the French were playing hard to get. The second sell attempt had been a smashing success and he was pleased.

A zephyr kicked up, blowing through the dead forests and pounding the ruined castle as it whipped about. Ron shivered as the cold air blew by. A greater believer in divination might have called it a sign of a doomed plan that would lead to cold deaths, but he had been utter rubbish at that class. It was nothing more than a cold win that was common as winter approached. "The Russians will raid the Far Realms, the rest of us begin preparation to move to China."

Hunter pushed his way past Louie and placed a hand on the table. "Let me and my aces take the first assault on the gate. We'll give 'em hell before the rest of you arrive."

The American was referring to an odd spell American wizards had created some years back. It was a strange hybrid of Native American shamanism and European magical tradition, given a uniquely American spin. The spell enabled a type of flight that only allowed the caster to hover a meter so above the ground, but let them accelerate to speeds a wizard could never achieve unless they had rediscovered the lost art of flight. The spell had a certain type of fame amongst the wizards as most of the larger wizard populations had rejected it, but the Polish had embraced it with gusto. Several Polish aces had come with the American exiles and a few more would arrive within the next three day.

Ron weighed the benefits of sending the American aces against the possible costs. He studied the map of the Shikko region and frowned as he stroked the irritating fuzz on face. He hadn't shaved in a few days and knew he needed to take care of it soon, before it became a distraction. "I'm not sure yet," he said cautiously. He silenced Hunter's protest by quickly continuing. "There are too many unknowns at the moment. We need a better idea about the number of Far Realm creatures guarding the gate. I send you in then I don't have you when we face the walls of Camelot. On the other hand, a slower assault on the gate would allow the Coven to reinforce the gate and will cost us more. I wish I had a dozen more of your aces," he bitterly remarked.

"Once again, you Europeans want the Americans to help out, but you don't want us to do anything." Hunter laughed at some unseen joke. "It's the greatest dysfunctional relationship in the whole of the damned world and neither of us wants to get out of bed, but can't stand the other." He slapped the table with his fist as he laughed, drawing some snide snickers from more than one commander.

Agatha gave the American ace a sharp look of disapproval, before she coughed lightly. "The way I see it, we have two options to take the gate. One, the Americans smash the guards and we follow up, but the aces will take heavy losses. Two, we assault the gate with ground forces and take greater causalities, but the aces will be stronger numerically and just might be enough to reach the top of the walls. Either way we will take many losses and every comrade lost is one less wand that we can't afford to lose."

"How very optimistic," Louie drolly remarked. "Your analysis leaves no room for hope of a perfect victory does it? This fight should be as art, raw as it starts and slowly becoming a masterpiece. If we believe we can achieve a flawless victory then it will be so," he finished confidently.

"Believe to achieve," Agatha scoffed. "What a silly idea! No wonder your people have always been the first to give up when the going got tough. And to think you spawned that Napoleon and were once a great empire!"

Louie's ruddy complex made for an odd contrast with the deep green robes he wore of his large body. He spluttered and hissed for a moment then lashed out. "Hmphf! Says the woman from the lot that killed millions of their own people! Ever since the days of the Mongols you've been subservient to your masters, no matter if they are Czars or mad muggles."

Ron saw the anger flare in Agatha eyes and a hint of white runes on her hands start to form. He moved quickly to head of the argument. "Take it somewhere else! Work out your bloody differences somewhere else and some other time. I ask that we all behave like adults and work together to save our collective arses from genocide," he finished hotly. This was the reason it had been so difficult to gather even the six hundred here. Each witch and wizard had some kind of axe to grind with those of another nationality, despite their status as wizards and witches in a world where they were the minority. Russian to German, English to French, Italy to Turkish, American against just about everybody and with everybody at once; it was little wonder this small force didn't shatter in a day let alone lasted the last six months, but the game was ending.

"Damn! I'm impressed," Hunter complimented him. "I guess you learned a few tricks from the Potter kid."

Ron was glad to see that Louie and Agatha no longer looked ready to murder each other. The heavy Frenchman had stuck his hands in his pockets and waited with a smug smile, no doubt thinking he had won the argument. Agatha had returned to her normal cold self, any thought she had was hidden behind those age worn green eyes. At least the faint light of the glowing runes had vanished for the moment. "Yeah, best friends and all. I suppose it was bound to rub one way or another."

A strange look came over Hunter's face. It was some cross between a leer and outright glee. "Say, can I ask you a question?"

"About the plan?" Ron replied warily.

"Nah, it's about something else," Hunter answered evasively. He waited for until Ron nodded and went on. "?"

"What? What was that?" Ron blinked a few times after Hunter spat out his question. "Did I have a three…oh…" He suddenly realized the full question and blushed.

"Ah, he's blushing! It must be true!" Hunter cried triumphantly. The American fist pumped the air then held out a hand towards Louie. "Pay up, it's true! I knew it!"

How had he lost control of the situation this badly? Ron desperately sought an escape, but for all his skill in strategy there was no escape. He had been trapped and checkmate had been called. Even though he had never had a threesome with Hermione and Harry, he couldn't help but wonder where such a scenario could come from. "Wait a minute!" he protested as the Frenchman reached into his coin pouch and started to pull a coin out. "I never admitted to anything!" There was little hope of saving face now, but perhaps he could drag the American down with him.

"He has a point," Louie pointed out, removing his hand from the coin pouch.

"Fine," Hunter admitted, turning to point at Ron. "Just admit it and we won't think any less of you."

Ron doubted the man could look anymore insincere. Any answer would be rejected by the rumor mill instantly and lies would be accepted. This was the price he paid for being a friend of Harry Potter and the paper loved to gossip about all three key figures from the Second War now more than ever. Freedom from the shadow of death had only made them bolder than ever before.

"Come on tell the truth already. I'm dyin' over here," Hunter impatiently said, stamping his feet. "Damn my feet are asleep."

"Nothing happened."

That voice! He knew that voice all too well. That voice that had once been sweet, until the war had taken her looks, her voice, and her health. Only one witch in the entire world had such a gravelly voice that sent Death Eaters flying away in fear. "Hermione!" Ron called out pleased by her unexpected appearance.

The commanders parted and watched in awe as a figure of raw power stalked towards the table. She hid her scared body behind billowing gray full body cloak and deep hood. He could barely make out her chin. A bit of scraggly brown hair was visible, but for the most part she was a shadowy enigma to the outside world. Most saw her as the Hermit, a jaded flower that had lost all its color, yet still filled its veins with power. She had retreated into isolation after Harry vanished, rarely speaking with anyone expect the bookstores owners. Meaning had been lost to her during the war. What she had once believed was false and what was false was a truth. The only constant, she had told him once, was power. She had reached a threshold were even her own body was unable to contain her power and it showed as she walked in odd magical happenings. Some claimed she was one of the few witches that would have a chance to defeat Harry or vice versa. Others called her the new Dark Lady and wanted her dead, but none had the will to try to take her on.

"The fae have moved. They have been seeking avatars in this world and fools have accepted. The fay have begun to create contracts and make ready for war. The Coven controls the president United States. You will enter this war and have to fight non magical peoples and their technology." She stopped on the other side of the table and watched him.

"You're to the point today," Ron remarked. She had become more direct the longer she spent away from the community at large. Simple matters like pleasantries and greetings, small talk and the like had been brunt away.

"Not relevant. Focus on the war effort or you all will die. Use this information. It was acquired at great cost," she told him succinctly.

"Come back with me. You need to be a part of us again. You're destroying yourself with this exile thing," he pleaded.

She spoke again after a moment passed. The wind kicked at the ends of her cloak, revealing nothing but darkness beneath. "The light has gone out from this race. We will all die. All you do is slow the descent into the void. The endless night will take us despite your efforts. Fight and perhaps you will die before the end comes. Be one of the lucky ones."

At her grim words Ron saw more than one commander glance uneasily around. As much as he hated it her words would destroy this army. Men would doubt themselves when she, a powerful witch, claimed their war was a failed effort. He needed those men in high spirits when the battle came. That was what he should have done, but he couldn't do it. This was his Hermione, his friend and closet thing to a sister he had living. "Where did you lose faith? What happened to you?"

The wind quieted for many long minutes and she was silent. As she started to speak grass pushed it way up from the dusty ground at the edges of her cloak, small sprouts that would die the moment she moved away. "In the dragon flames, in the trench, in the siege, in the assault, in the madness, in the chaos, in the anger, in the hate I withered. Many withered though they never knew it. Harry hurt, he withered, you did not. You twisted. Inwards and so you survived to thrive. Unnecessary actions, foolish thoughts, vain hopes and dreams, vain actions were revealed to me. In the war I learned truth. Wizards are not able to handle the truth. They twist like you and they will die for it." With those final words she turned away and began to walk back the way she came.

Ron watched her go with tears in his eyes. She hurt so much and she wouldn't let anyone help her. As much as it pained him to admit she had drifted away from him and their friendship withered in the last days of the war. Harry had been her pillar then and he was gone. He had abandoned his post, his duty and his friends who needed him for selfish reasons. Most of those who fought with her and Harry in the last days were dead or vegetables. She had no anchor and she drifted, broken and lost. Ron clenched his fists in anger when he saw the damage Harry had brought on Hermione and at his own helplessness. He watched the sprouts wither and die before his eyes, but he had no need of that analogy.

He couldn't muster any words before she vanished with a small, purposeful pop. Nothing he could say mattered. He was just another wizard in her eyes. He was no light to her, not anyone. She gave her words and left, leaving uncertainty and fear in her wake. In many ways she was worse than the Dark Lords at ruining her own kinds will before a fight. Tales would spread, commanders would talk and the army would learn. Within a day every man and woman would know what she had said. Despair would fill the camp, then some would leave and others would raise questions that would lower the morale and their willingness to fight. In a single meeting lasting less than ten minutes she would undone all his work swifter than the Coven ever could hope to do.

"On that note, I will close this strategy session," he said stiffly. He needed to do some serious damage control and it had a small chance of working. "See to your men." He dismissed the commanders hoping they would try to assist with damage control. Rolling up the map, he tapped the table with his wand and it returned to a piece of Hogwarts masonry. Perhaps the piece had been the victim of a Blasting Curse and the student who had manned the wall as the Death Eaters stormed the castle had come along with it. It was impossible to know, though he imagined he could see the masonry coated in the blood of a child who died too early.

"I don't feel my age," he muttered to himself as he walked towards his temporary office in what remained of the Hogwarts. "I'm not even thirty yet, bloody hell! Don't even feel twenty four," he moaned the loss of what should have been the high point of his life. The age where he could enjoy the fruits of his work during the war, parties and enthralling the ladies with grandiose war stories should be where he was, not commanding this army. "Where did I go wrong with my life?" he asked the cloudy sky. Even the sun seemed to have forsaken them on this day. A cold wind was his only answer and answer was nothing he liked; a cold winter was coming.

* * *

><p><em>The next three hours passed in a blaze. Every topic affecting the planet was discussed from trade to the boom in the Ghetto Quarter. Morals questions were posed, philosophical meanings shared, tactics and weapons talked about and demonstrated. Charts and reports of the various powers were discussed. It appeared to have no rhyme or reason. I could see no pattern or trend and so kept to myself. I spoke sparsely and watched as I slowly sipped at an array of different drinks. <em>

_This was little more than a club for intellectuals by all appearances, but I felt there was something more behind this group. Some deeper cause had brought this odd mix of company together and it was hardly the exchange of ideas. Any man could do such a thing openly within the Empire; there was no need for this clandestine meeting in the night. _

_At one point Kelin turned to me as the conversation reached a lull point. "So do ye get it yet? Why I brought ye here?"_

_I couldn't help, but give him a negative reply. "It seems like a bunch of talk like any group of intellectuals would have. That doesn't explain the meeting time or the mixed company," I replied in confusion. "Tell me the meaning." _

_My friend palmed his face and groaned in annoyance. "I thought ye were smarted than that. Ye can't even see past the smokescreen. Your skills must have degraded when I gone," he said with a slow shake of his head, as if he disbelieved me. "What's the common thread?"_

_I took another sip of my drink and thought. I reviewed the conversation, seeking a common thread through them, but found nothing. As I placed the drink back on the table, I answered. "I can't see anything. It seems like a serious of unrelated sets of data, reports, and such. Other than the Empire being mentioned a lot, but ever loyal man does that."_

_He groaned in disgust and shook his head sadly. "Ye see it, but ye don't get it. The thread is the Empire!" he said, throwing his hands in the air. "Every bit of it is a status update of the Empire and the enemies of the Empire. And here I was thinking ye were just as sharp as your father." _

_"Sorry to disappoint," I said coldly. I disliked being compared to my father. His legacy overshadowed me at every turn. It was always to my father's standard I had held up to and I failed ever time. I was no great Knight, or hero crafted in the eternal fires of war. I wasn't a great merchant who played the game as easily as breathing, able to make anyone buy anything for any price. _

_"Ye aren't stupid. Ye can see the pattern so just tell me straight up. What do you see?" Kelin asked as he poured himself another drink. Redness was starting to show on his face now, his high tolerance of alcohol was finally being approached. _

_"The Empire is in decline," I told him succinctly. I as acutely aware of the room falling silent as I uttered those words, but I kept my gaze locked on my drink. That fact was hardly news to me. Every report an agent of the Empire would give would be measured against the Empire; that was the way it was done and had been done since we won our freedom from the Warlords and their puppets. _

_"Go on," Kelin urged me. "Expound."_

_"The Empire is on the decline. Immigrating alien races and refugees from the Warlords sectors have settled here. They are draining our resources faster and the worlds of the Empire cannot support the new population. The trade routes are drying up as Warlords fight, making the merchants uneasy. Newcomers to the Empire have no allegiance to the Empress, yet hope to be safe behind her power. Moral decay has taken the highest echelons of the Empire and the people have followed suit. The Belkan tongue is being replaced by a hybrid Belka that uses various other words from other languages. The armies of the Empire are shrinking and fewer young people are joining them, in favor of pleasure instead of the pain and death brought on by war. Within two hundred years the Empress and the Empire will be unrecognizable or gone, annihilated by the Warlords or infighting. Civil wars are brewing across a dozen worlds and the Empress has to join the war for land, resources and morale so she can retain her throne."_

_"Correct," the Black Apostle boomed as he stood. "The Empire has entered its twilight and we will save it." He flung his arms out as if embracing the entire room. "These men and women are the ones, who like you, have seen the twilight and want to stop it. The purpose of this group is to bring that change. We come from every walk of life for this common goal. Are you with us?" _

_"Yes," I told him, raising my gaze from the glass to the Apostle. _

_"You will have to kill and kill again. Are you with us?" the Apostle asked._

_"Yes."_

_"You will have no place in the history of the Empire. You have no future, but the Empire's future if you fight with us. Are you with us?" _

_"Yes," I firmly insisted hoping he would end this game. _

_"Very well, you are now one of us, an Heir of Segmond now and forever. Within these walls your name will be…Zalcad" he intoned gravely. "Now that our newest member understands the gravity of our situation we will move on to more important matters." _

_There were nods of agreement from the other members of this group, while I was stunned by the name. I knew my history and one of teachers had been fascinated by the origins of modern words. Zalcad was the Belkan version of the name Alucard, the demon mercenary who had fought nearly a thousand years ago in the Vemal Rebellion alongside the Empire. He had become a legend for his actions during that bloody civil war. Every child knew of his conquest of the Fortress of Solitude, who he went up against ten thousand traitors and slew every one of them within the Fortress and the valley it guarded. It was said that when the Empress arrived herself she met the warrior as he died on a throne of corpses, stretching to sky. With his last bit of strength Alucard moved off the seat of bodies and bade the Empress sit. She lifted him into her lap and kissed his brow as the man drew his last breath. Legend of not, he was forever known as one of the few men who had ever been kissed by the Empress. When he died she personally carried his body and laid him to rest in a mountain cave, where she left a lock of her golden hair. The tomb entrance was sealed with magic and the bodies of the dead stacked before it. In death the dead would guard their killer until the day came when Alucard would be reborn and welcomed back to the Empress's side to stand there in glory forever and ever. It was little more than child's story, yet many believed it was truth. _

_A woman who called herself Vera stood and took the floor. "I have identified the next target." Her long brown hair swayed as she pulled an old fashion paper map, weather worn and stained, out of a bag hung on the back of her chair and unrolled it on the table. "This is a layout of the House Meora grounds. They are Lesser Family, but the head of the House is a fierce advocate of alien immigration and some of the Greater Families have sided with him."_

_"I know them." I was surprised to hear myself speak, but went on despite the fact that I had interrupted Vera. "He's involved in a number of housing projects and craftsmanship deals. No doubt he stands to prosper the new aliens and their needs and their talents." _

_"Correct," Vera agreed coolly. "Don't interrupt me again or you will suffer," she warned me with a glare. "As I was saying, House Meora has been playing both sides. Their Head has been organizing protest behind the scenes. From what I've learned they are mostly human protests against alien immigration that are supposed to turn into riots and rampage through the Ghetto Quarter. Afterwards House Meora plays to come in and save the aliens by rebuilding and provided protection. The cycle then repeats on an odd cycle. This kind of corruption cannot be allowed to exist," Vera declared passionately. _

_"I agree. Something must be done about it. A message needs to be sent to House Meora to pick a side or not to side with anyone. Does anyone have any ideas?" the Apostle asked the group. _

_The Black Apostle seemed to be a leader of some kind. It was hard to miss the respect every man and women in the room gave him. Ideas began to fly around after he posed his question. Some suggested killing the Head and wiping the family out, but others called for the death on the heir or a lesser son or daughter. Some wanted to confront the Head in private and sway him one way or the other. Someone suggested exposing the House's plan for the riots to the public and shaming them, but none were accepted or could gather enough support from the entire group. _

_As the debate rolled onwards the meeting was entering its fourth hour. Kelin had kept quiet most of the time, occasionally supporting a motion to assassinate a son or daughter of House Meora, but little beyond that. I still didn't know his codename. In one of the lull points, when everyone broke off to gather support this idea or that idea, I confronted him as he stretched his legs. "So what is your codename?" _

_"Roalain," he answered coldly. "I hate it." _

_"As in Roalain the Dragonbane…?" I asked hesitantly. I noted that the Apostle was steady moving around the room, talking with one of two people at a time and getting them to nod to something before he moved on to the next group._

_"The same." Kelin took a long gulp of his drink and slammed the glass on the table. _

_"Oh…" I wasn't sure how to respond. Roalain the Dragonsbane was an infamous legend of the Empire, but a traitor. He had turned against the Empire and his own brothers, the Dragons Fangs, in the midst of a battle against the Golden Lady. He cut down his own brothers and stood in a circle of their bodies as the golems of the Golden Lady tore the army of the Empire to bits. He spent the next twenty years raiding, looting, burning, raping and pillaging his way across the Empire. He never gave a stand up fight and it took the Empress sending her elite assassins, the Delirium Dreamers, to end the man, but the damage was done._

_"Return to your seats," the Apostle commanded. He waited until everyone was seated and stood. He folded his arms across his chest and gazed at each person seated in turn. "There is another course of action available to us. A unique opportunity," he said slowly. "In three days House Meora will host a party. Those from the merchant families will be in attendance and the eldest daughter of the Head, Eleanor. The Empress has brought us one such man who can get into that party with ease."_

_I saw him look at me pointedly and the rest of the room watched me intently. I shifted slightly in my seat, a bit uncomfortable. I swallowed hard and dared to meet the Apostles eyes. "Me?"_

_"Aye, you. Roalain tells me your quiet the ladies' man. All you have to do is seduce the girl and get her away from the party. Roalain, myself and a few others will be waiting to break in and take her away. It will send a message to the Head when you leave our mark on the door to whatever room you take her to," the Apostle explained as if it were that simple. _

_"Wait a minute!" I protested. There were too many holes and variables in this plan. "You want me to seduce a complete stranger, make her want to have sex with me within a few minutes of meeting me, not to mention you want me to do this under the nose of her own father, kidnap said girl then have me leave a mark on a door, then what? Walk out the door as if nothing happened? It the eldest daughter! Her father will have an eye on any man who talks with her, his men will never allow her to slip away with a new friend to someone dark bedroom while he can use her status as virgin to his advantage." As I pointed out the flaws I had to admit it was gone in a certain sense. House Meora was known for its lavish parties and the beauty of its females. I had seen the Lady Eleanor from across the room once or twice when the Grand Court was in session. Many of the other sons of the Lesser Families had lusted after her, but behind every tale of their supposed conquest of Eleanor I saw their lying nature. She would never settle for a lesser bedmate than the best. The sons of the Greater Families came to visit her regularly, but not even they could claim to have had their way with her and not be a liar._

_The boyish part of me wanted me to try just to prove myself better. It was a childish thought, but a tempting one. She was a beauty and I could imagine the feelings would be far better than the boasts that could come from taking her virginity. It was a challenge in a way, testing me. I had never been one for contest of 'manliness', but I felt something odd rise in my chest. A thrill of attempting the impossible…and I tried to ignore it._

_"Aha! You're interested!" Klein proclaimed suddenly. "That's my friend!" _

_"So you'll do it?" the Apostle asked. _

_I needed to learn to control my emotions better. These people could easily read where my thoughts were by facial expressions apparently. "I'll admit that I'm interested…" I said slowly. I knew a bit of red stained my cheeks and it wasn't the drinks. The image of those perfect breasts bouncing as I…I pushed the thought away, but the damage was done before I could reach my drink to conceal my face. _

_"Hmphf! You men are all the same," Vera snapped from the other side of the table. Several of the other females agreed with her and glared at any male near them. "You all think with your dick!" _

_Suddenly I liked the plan a lot more than before. Odd._

* * *

><p><em>AN: The Atlseim Dirsict is cannon; it's supposedly the birth place of Fate and is something of an unexplored frontier. There's some interesting uses for this region that I might use in the future. _

_Yes, I have nerfed the power of teleportation. At the current stage only the TSAB has teleportation devices on starships and those are extremely limited in what and where they can be used, to stay closer to what cannon says or doesn't say, about teleportation. Personal teleportation is useless for cargo and few mages have the strength for such spells._

_The term a-comin' is anarchic in the modern world, but not a dead word. Rarely used outside of some regions of the American south and southwest, Dropping the g at the end is also something of a stereotype of Southern American English. _

_The misspelling of fae and fay in the last chapter was on purpose. They are different species, but to non-native English speaker there might appear to be no difference phonetically when they hear the words (even then an English speaking muggle might not catch the difference, but a wizard would!).This is fanfiction, I'm allowed to do that!_

_ As for the Nanoha scene in the last chapter, it was a spurn of the moment addition. The old saying what you write first is best came into play and I followed it. More squick moments might happen as the story goes on, but do recall this piece of fanfiction is a first draft in many ways. _

_The offer made at the end of chapter 1 still is open. PM if interested._

_I'm looking for a new beta reader. PM if interested. _

_Remember to read and review!_


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